


Searching for a Lost Friend

by Azure_K_Mello



Series: Point Oh Oh Six [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Clint Barton's Farm, Gen, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Proper Mental Health Care, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Team as Family, The Avengers Are Good Bros, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark is Good With Kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 63,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28367838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azure_K_Mello/pseuds/Azure_K_Mello
Summary: After Natasha dumps SHIELD’s files onto the internet, Tony and Steve learn the truth: Howard and Maria Stark were murdered by the Winter Soldier, and the Winter Soldier is one James Buchanan Barnes.With time to process, Tony recognizes that the poor bastard desperately needs a rescue mission. And so the team launches into “Operation FML: an Iron Man Joint Costarring the Avengers” to take down HYDRA and find the man they call their friend. Who knows how much of Bucky Barnes is left inside the shell HYDRA has been torturing for seventy years?It’s the continuing adventures of the emotionally healthy Avengers with single dad Tony flirting egregiously with Bruce, Sharon making healthy life choices, and ULTRON? What exactly is ULTRON?
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Tony Stark
Series: Point Oh Oh Six [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1602685
Comments: 74
Kudos: 112





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After six different seizure drugs, I’m finally good again, and this story is done, phew. I think there is only one or two more in the series after this. Sorry to have made you wait for so long. I honestly didn’t mean to!
> 
> This covers what would be Winter Soldier, Age of Ultron and Civil War. But we are now so far off-book because we are living with the emotionally healthy Avengers that you’ll feel those beats but not see them play out. This is eight chapters and it will be posted over eight weeks. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> And I hope you are enjoying the holidays!

‘Tasha dumped a metric shit ton of SHIELD data onto the internet. SHIELD had incubated HYDRA since the very beginning. Peggy was heartbroken and Steve was hovering around her, trying to find a way to comfort her. ‘Tasha limped home with a broken arm, one eye too swollen to see out of and a neck collar. Tony had grimaced and said, “Ouchies.”

She nodded, “HYDRA bombed their own secret lair in New Jersey while I was in it. I’m fine. I need you, Peg and Steve together.” 

“My God, you could have died: in New Jersey. New Jersey, ‘Tasha.”

“I mean, it’s not the worst place I could have died. I could have died with my pants around my knees in a porta potty in Florida. Can you get them and palm Win off on someone for a few hours? I have news, but it’s not good.” 

He hugged her gently and said, “I love you. I’m glad you’re home. Which floor should be meet on?”

“I’m afraid you and Steve might come to blows. Let’s meet on Peggy’s floor to try and keep it civil. I’m going to change. I’ll meet you there.” 

Tony asked JARVIS to ask Peggy and Steve to meet for a conversation and then went to daycare, where Edwin was playing with some other kids in the indoor treehouse. Tony got high fives from several kids as he made his way over. 

“Hi, Daddy!” 

“Hey, baby. Having fun?”

“So much fun! Cassie made up a new game it’s like hopscotch but on the monkey bars!”

Tony grinned, “That sounds totally awesome.” Edwin nodded happily. “I’m gonna be busy so if you need something, ask JARVIS who you should go to?”

“Okay, Daddy.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too, Daddy.” Tony stepped onto the bottom rung of the ladder to the treehouse to kiss Edwin.

Tony went to Peggy’s floor and was instantly issued a cup of tea. “How bad is this that I’m being issued tea?”

“It’s really, really bad, Tony,” said ‘Tasha. “Sit.”

“Peg?” asked Tony as he sat down.

“It’s bad,” said Peggy, “sit.”

Steve was already there. He had also been issued with tea. This was not a good sign.

‘Tasha explained how HYDRA had infiltrated SHIELD from the beginning. Tony listened, he was Level Nine; his father had been a founder. The company was built for Steve. Tony kept telling himself that it made sense that she was reading him into something. But he had been issued tea, so he knew it was bad. Then ‘Tasha told them about a Russian spy urban legend, an unstoppable, seemingly immortal killer. Two dozen kills over fifty years. She showed them a scar and talked about her run-in with him. “Bye-bye bikinis.”

“‘Tasha I’ve seen you in a bikini, I’ve literally never noticed,” said Tony. “You have beautiful breasts and scary-amazing thighs.”

“Thanks,” she said. His words weren’t flirtatious or sexual, just one friend complimenting another’s positive attributes to prop up a healthy body image. “He’s real. I just want it clear that we aren’t messing around here. He just beat the hell out of SHIELD despite the fact that he apparently is SHIELD because the Red Room and HYDRA merged and hollowed out a space for themselves inside a place I devoted my life to, that Peg built. This week I saw his face. I learned his real name and history.” She stopped. “I kill people; I don’t break bad news.” She sighed heavily. “I need you both to hear me to the end because it’s bad, so bad. Okay?”

Tony nodded and saw Steve do the same. Peggy moved to sit between him and Steve.

She swallowed, “HYDRA had their own version of the Super Soldier Serum. They experimented and built the Winter Soldier. They made him in 1944. He was an American soldier that they captured. They gruesomely and brutally tortured and brainwashed him for over twenty years before he gave in and killed for them. It took twenty years for them to break him to the point where they could get him to kill. And then, later… On December sixteenth, 1991, Howard Stark was driving a recreation of the Super Soldier Serum that made Steve Captain America down to D.C.” Peggy put her arm around Tony. He was so grateful for her support. December sixteenth was always burned into his mind.

“Tony, your dad didn’t crash his car. Howard didn’t kill your mom. He was run off the road by the Winter Soldier. Howard was a mean, spiteful abusive drunk but he and your mother were murdered by the Winter Soldier. His last words were, ‘Help my wife. Please, help.’ Then he saw the Winter Soldier’s face and said the man’s name, ‘Sergeant Barnes.’ The Winter Soldier killed Howard with one punch and strangled your mother.” Peggy held him closer. 

‘Tasha swallowed, “I’m so sorry. Steve, you knew that he was experimented on before you rescued him. When he fell, it sparked the serum. You got electrocuted and pumped full of radiation. He got a jolt in the form of the fall. He lost his arm, was brutally tortured and has been in and out of cryogenic freezing for seventy years. They have code words, ten words said in the right order, that turn off whatever shreds of his consciousness is left. I don’t know what is left in his skull. He’s a hero with a Congressional Medal of Honor and your best friend, Steve, but I don’t know if he’s human anymore. He took the Super Soldier Serum Howard made and gave it to his handlers. There are five other Winter Soldiers. But, unlike him, they were an elite Russian death squad for HYDRA who signed up… So there are six altogether, five gung-ho volunteers and a highly decorated hero who was Steve’s best friend.”

“He lost an arm,” said Tony slowly. “But he killed them with his hands. He punch Howard and choked Mom? But a one armed man is unbalanced and even Steve can’t kill someone with a punch if he can’t hold them with the other hand.”

“He has a metal arm,” said ‘Tasha. “JARVIS, can you help, please?”

A hologram of Barnes popped up. He didn’t look like any of the pictures Howard had kept. He was shirtless and disheveled, long hair, more muscular. There was no emotion on his face. His neck and side were covered in ugly scars. “That arm is too heavy. He’s lopsided,” said Tony. 

“God, that’s him, that’s Buck,” Steve brought his hand to his mouth. “My best friend is HYDRA? He killed Howard?”

‘Tasha nodded, “He’s been used and tortured for seventy years. I don’t think anyone could blame Bucky Barnes, but I’m not sure if Bucky Barnes is in there. And I thought you both needed to be on the same page.” 

“Was Dad sober? ‘Tasha, could you tell in the video? Was he sober?”

She breathed out slowly, “The car was perfectly in control; his words weren’t the least bit slurred. I don’t know if he had any alcohol in him. But I know that he wasn’t at fault. I’m so sorry, Tony.” 

“Murdered,” said Tony.

“Murdered,” she agreed. “I’m so sorry.”

“That arm is too heavy,” said Tony. 

“Okay,” said ‘Tasha. 

“There’s this thing, it’s called BARF — Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing. The designer — I canned him because he was an evil S.O.B. who seemed to think this was still a weapons company,” said Tony. “He wanted to use it as psychological weapon but you could actually use it as a mental health tool. It’s amazing for PTSD. I’ve been testing it on me. When we find him, that arm — which killed my mom — does not come into my son’s Tower. But, BARF will help him — if there is anything left to fix.” He breathed very slowly and said, “Peggy, do you have alcohol? I haven’t drank to get drunk in five years. But, I would like to be drunk.” Then he said. “Steve, you are a good person, a nice friend and I need you to be silent. If you would like to drink, you may do so. But right now… Howard and Peggy made SHIELD to find you, SHIELD was secretly HYDRA, HYDRA murdered Mom. So right now, we’re friends, but I need you to be quiet. None of this is your fault. But I need you to be quiet.”

Peggy got up and poured scotch into a glass, “Soda and ice?” Before he could respond, she said, “You’ve not had a strong drink in five years.”

“Yes, please,” he agreed. “J, baby, comb through everything ‘Tasha dumped onto the internet.” He accepted the drink and took a calming sip. “Thanks, Peg. If there are six Winter Soldiers — all going in and out of cryo — that’s a metric fuck ton of power. They most likely have several locations that they shunt them between. Any wintery murders or crimes, map them. Let’s see if there are power sucks nearby. Also, check all of SHIELD properties in Russia and Germany. If we can back track to them we’ll find the frozen five and a jump off point for the Barnes search. Is there even sort of enough of SHIELD left to take them out? Also, loop Share in, she needs to know and she might have ideas ‘cause if five of them are HYDRA operatives we’re going to need good wet workers. ‘Tasha did you tell Phil?”

“I did,” she nodded. “This was just about telling you two. He said Clint and I are on you. Whatever you need, you’re our CO. We help you. We’re both fine with wet work.”

“Miss Sharon has actually gone to ground,” said JARVIS. “The moment she is on the radar, I will bring her in.”

He nodded, accepting that she was a spy and was good at her job. He took another sip, “Cool, cool, J, track every move Barnes made since he started tracking ‘Tasha and going after Fury. If you lose track of him, track ‘Tasha and Fury because he was near them. Figure out what cities he killed a lot of people in. If he ever had any flashes of cognizance he might have bolt-holes. I mean when I was tortured I had shit stored away anytime they looked away. Admittedly, it was only three months and they didn’t brainwash me. But, if there’s any shred of a person in there, surely he would have little safe spots.” 

“You are the only person I know who says they were only tortured for three months,” said ‘Tasha.

“You referred to the Red Room as a rough childhood,” Tony replied. He drained the glass. 

“Another?” offered Peggy.

“Yes, please,” said Tony. Steve opened his mouth, and Tony held up a hand. “I love you; you’re great. Don’t speak. I’m gonna find your best friend. Don’t speak.” Steve opened his mouth. “Your best friend is alive and HYDRA murdered my mother using his body. We’ll find him. I’ll do everything I can to fix him. My mom was amazing, Steve, and Bucky killed her. Except he didn’t, but he did. I’m genuinely pleased for you. He’s alive and I’m gonna help. He’s a victim. But, I need to drink before you talk okay?” Steve nodded silently. He took a sip and then said, “Peggy, how are you doing?”

“SHIELD was my baby. It was my life. I built an intelligence empire with your father’s checkbook and my leg work. Finding out SHIELD was incubating one of the worst evils… And then Bucky is alive which is wonderful but he’s perhaps been tortured to lunacy which is horrific. And my organization — my baby — covered up the murder of people I loved. So,” she took a deep breath and shrugged as she shook her head. She stroked his cheek. “Dear boy.”

“Would you like a drink?” asked Tony.

She held out her teacup, “Add whiskey to this, please.”

“Sometimes I think you can’t be more English, then you want booze in your tea.” He took the cup over to her bar and added a healthy splash. He brought it back and felt light-headed, “Two medium strength drinks, wow.”

“That’s what five year years of sobriety do,” ‘Tasha gave him a gentle smile.

“Mom was murdered,” he said. She nodded. “Howard, like, yeah totally. I get that. Fucker practically had ‘murder me: I deserve it’ stamped on his face. But Mom was lovely. Why would HYDRA kill Mom?”

‘Tasha was silent for a moment and then said, “Because she was there. That’s the only reason. She was there.”

“Jesus Christ, Mom is Cedric Diggory.”

‘Tasha gave a dry laugh. “Yeah, Cedric Diggory.”

“Would you like a drink?” asked Tony.

“No, I’m your sober buddy today,” she smiled. 

“Steve, would you like a drink?” offered Tony. The man shook his head. “I am going to do everything, Steve. He’s a victim too. HYDRA tortured him for seventy years.” He sighed, “I’m tipsy and you’re allowed to speak now.”

“I’m sorry, Tony, I’m so sorry HYDRA murdered your parents. I’m so sorry that Bucky murdered your mom. If you want me to move out, or just not come to dinner anymore. Whatever you need.”

“Christ, I thought you were gonna make excuse for him. I would have let you talk earlier if I’d known that was what you were gonna say.” Tony shook his head, “That fucking arm isn’t coming into this Tower but I’ll try to fix your buddy. He obviously can’t be here when he’s dangerous but, y’know, once he’s fixed and we get rid of his HYDRA trigger words, your floor has four bedrooms. But his Nazi arm that choked my mom to death is gone. Besides, it’s too heavy: he’s lopsided. It must hurt all the time he’s upright. I’ll make him a good one.”

“There are schematics of the arm, Sir,” said JARVIS. “They anchored it to bone; it must be extremely painful all the time.” The pictures came up, and Tony breathed slowly.

“Should it not be to bone? I mean, an arm is connected to bone,” said Steve.

Tony swallowed bile, “It should be supported by muscle. Think of how your arm moves, Steve.” Steve started to rotate his arm. “Feel the muscles in your chest and shoulder moving? Imagine if every move was putting all that strain and all that weight on your skeleton instead of muscles. The bones fit together; they aren’t fused. He must be in agony. So we get him, we knock him out, get that arm off him, then wake him up some place safe and comfortable and start putting his mind back together. I’ll make him a good arm. He can help design it. Howard always said Bucky loved tech, acted like a kid on Christmas when Dad let him into the workshop.”

“You guys are assuming he can be saved; he’s been with HYDRA for seventy years,” said ‘Tasha. “I hope he can be saved. I’m not holding a gun wound against him, but he might be HYDRA.”

Tony shrugged, “If he is, I’ll kill him myself. If he is HYDRA, if he is only what they made him. If he killed my mom because he is HYDRA and not because he’s a weapon, I’ll put him down. Otherwise, we’ll see how much we can undo.”

“If he is nothing but a HYDRA shell, Buck wouldn’t want to be alive,” said Steve, quietly. “So, if Bucky’s gone and not just buried… we’ll give him a chance though, right? Please?”

“This isn’t shoot first. We’ll give him a chance,” agreed Tony. He finished his drink and went to stand. ‘Tasha gave him a very gentle hand squeeze. 

“Hey, Tones, take a beat. Deep breath. Don’t have a third drink until that second one hits you. Would that be okay?” Her tone was so gentle. 

Tony had to laugh, “God, you ‘handling’ me is surreal. I’ll wait five minutes but, if I can’t have booze I want cake or chips.” 

She smiled, “You know you’re my second best friend, right?”

“Right, Clint then me. And you’re, like, top five. Rhodey, then Pep, Hap, Share, Logan and you.”

“That’s six people,” she replied.

“Well, okay, but that’s six people. How did I, an only child with parents who were murdered when I was seventeen, end up with six siblings?”

“You’re magnetic,” she said. 

“I am,” he agreed. “Used to be, I could keep people watching me for a few hours and now I have six best friends.”

“Strip off the pretty hot rod and gold paint and you’re still a magnet.” She turned to Peggy. “Chips or cake?”

“I save salt and vinegar crisps or there’s Bakewell tart,” offered Peggy. 

“Ohhh, Bakewell tart,” said Tony. ‘Tasha nodded and got up. 

“Your son doesn’t whisk enough so the frangipane isn’t as smooth as I would like it but when my grandchild messes it up I say nothing.”

“You used to tell me off when we baked,” said Tony.

She smiled, “You weren’t my grandson. He keeps me young.”

“He’s a good boy,” said Tony. “And you’re a very good grandmother.” He breathed slowly, “HYDRA murdered Mom and Dad.”

“They did. Nazis murdered your parents.”

“Fucking Nazis,” he sighed. 

“Fucking Nazis,” agreed Peggy. ‘Tasha brought the tart, plates and forks to the coffee table.

She started to cut, “Everyone in for tart?”

“Yes, please,” said Steve.

She cut them each slices, and Tony said, “Look at you, being mother.” She laughed. She handed off a piece of the tart to him. It was tasty, and Tony said, “This is delicious. The texture is slightly more solid and grainy than it should be.”

“Win did his best,” Peggy shrugged. “After your next drink we’re ordering Chinese.”

“Cool,” said Tony. “J, who can look after my baby? ‘Cause Imma get tanked.”

“I had a quiet word with Dr. Banner. He already told Clint and Thor that the three of them are having a boys’ movie night with Master Win,” said JARVIS. “I did not tell Bruce why you needed a night off. They’ll be heading to the movie theater at six. Colonel Rhodes is about an hour out. He can put Win to bed. I didn’t tell Colonel Rhodes why he had to come. I said it was a time sensitive Science Bro concern but not an emergency. When he pushed I may have led him to believe that Mr. Parker is secretly engaged and that the Dope Ass Fresh Prince is throwing a surprise engagement party. I didn’t want him to panic and fly here in a state of anxiety. Would you like me to tell him the news quietly, when he arrives?”

“Yes, please. He’s, thankfully, one of the few people who understands that being told by you isn’t being brushed off.”

“No, he has always fully accepted me for who I am,” agreed JARVIS. 

“Can you please have a quiet word with the Avengers? Let them know what’s going on? I don’t want Win to know but having the grownups on the same page is probably for the best. Clint and Thor might think you’re a brush off but they’ll get over it. Bruce will get it.” Tony looked around and said, “So, murdered parents,” he pointed at himself. Then pointing at each person, he said, “Tortured bestie enslaved by Nazis, life’s work harbored a secret Nazi parasite and, ‘Tasha, you’ve got broken bones and you were secretly employed by HYDRA.”

“I’m going to be called in front of Congress and I am no longer an effective spy. Being an Avenger has killed my game.”

“That’s not true ‘Tasha, you’re the best spy. Like, Fury asks you for tips… or will, whenever he resurfaces.”

She laughed, “Oh, Tony, you’re a sweet drunk.”

Nodding, he said, “Nothing like Dad.”

“It’s not that my skills disappeared,” she said, “The problem is, since the press conference and the five town hall meetings, people know who I am. The last two missions I had went pear shaped because I have a very, very specific set of skills that depend on people not recognizing me and completely dismissing me. When I’m not being pretty and distracting, I’m get gruesomely tortured. In movies, the bad guy ties up the hero poorly, gloats about their plan and is quickly foiled. In my experience, they tie you up well and torture you for somewhere between three and six days and then they gloat. Then you break the chair that you haven’t really been tied to for somewhere between two and five days, kill everyone in the room and get to an extraction point. Now, I can’t do the distracting bimbo because they say, ‘Wow you’re that superhero chick.’ And I can’t do my version of an interrogation because all the baddies can now spot the Black Widow on sight and know to just try to kill me right out the gate.” She shrugged. “It could be worse. I mean,” she copied Tony’s pointing, “Murdered parents, tortured and brainwashed friend, life’s work was coopted by Nazis.”

“The weird thing is,” said Tony, taking a last bite, “Mom is no deader than she was two hours ago. So why is this worse?”

“Because if someone dies in a car accident, you can tell yourself they died on impact,” said ‘Tasha. “They got run off the road, and that must have been scary. Then she saw her husband get punched to death and was choked to death, and that is so, so much worse. So, you’re the only one whose path forward won’t change, but it is still truly horrific. If your shrink was here, she would tell you to not compare traumas. Everything sucks for the people in this room. The FBI, CIA, NSA, and so many other alphabet organizations are poring over all the leaked data to try and salvage what we’ve got, try and figure out who was HYDRA and who was real. Poor Phil is trying to gather the forces. With Fury in the wind, Phil got a promotion he wasn’t aiming for.”

“Are the Avengers, like, even a thing now?” asked Tony.

She shrugged, “I think that’s a discussion for Congress.”

“‘Cause, like, I love you — you know I love you — but you guys need intelligence to work off of, not guts, gumption and a get ‘er done attitude. You need an intelligence agency behind you.”

“Oh, Tony,” Peggy sighed, “I think of you as a teen and if someone had told me you would be the voice calling for reason and oversight I would have called them a liar.”

“Without oversight and solid intelligence, it’s not a super team it’s just a gang of talented individuals performing vigilante justice,” Tony shrugged. “The mission of the Avengers is to be the perfect strike team. There is no psychic on the team so without the backing of an intelligence agency, they can never have enough information to be active, only reactive. And without a valid employer, there’s no paycheck. I mean, there is toy money. But, a paycheck is nice.”

“I’ve been talking with Phil about that, sweetheart,” she said. “We’ll sort it out for your friends. They might end up being NSA with Phil working for two agencies. If the Avengers don’t have government backing, the public will eat them alive for the first dead civilian caught in the crossfire. We’ll have it all sorted.”

Tony nodded slowly, “If you need help, I’m great at throwing money at problems.”

“Thank you,” said Peggy. “But, never forget, you are so much more than a bank. Never fool yourself into thinking that you’re just the bank. You are Iron Man and also the head designer for every piece of tech the Avengers ever touch.”

“SHIELD won’t be paying rent any time soon,” said ‘Tasha, “Sorry about that.”

“If I wanted to rent your floors to real people, prior to customizations, I would charge two hundred fifty grand a month each. I only ever wanted SHIELD to take responsibility.” 

“When you say money numbers like that I actually have palpitations,” said Steve. Then he said, “Sorry, I’ll be quiet. Would you like another drink?”

“I thought… Steve, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I thought I knew what you would say. I thought you would say that ‘Tasha was wrong or lying. I thought you would jump to his defense two seconds after ‘Tasha said my mom was murdered. I thought you would say that he being your friend outweighed him murdering my mother. I’m sorry.” 

Steve nodded very slowly, thinking it over. “James Buchanan Barnes was a rich kid. Parents owned a car. He was a patriot who hated fascism. He signed on, not needing money, not drafted. Bucky was one of the best men I ever knew. Never cared that I was a poor kid, never acted like he was better. And he wouldn’t do this. But, if he’s been tortured for decades? Your parents were murder almost fifty years after he fell… The day we met… after I read Nat’s report. I told you that I knew men worth ten of you… Bucky. I meant Bucky was better. I was very wrong. Not only are you one of the best people I’ve ever met, also Bucky murdered your parents.”

Tony nodded, “My parents were murdered by your friends’ body. That fucking Nazi arm doesn’t come in here. But it hurts him anyway so he doesn’t want it.” After that, there was a blur of booze and food and the comforting presence of Rhodey, who ended up putting Edwin to bed. Later in the night, he was carried up to bed by Rhodey.


	2. Chapter 2

Waking up the next morning, he was left wondering if he had wailed into Rhodey’s shoulder or just sobbed into it. His throbbing head was positive there was a difference. Edwin was on top of him with his face very close to Tony’s. 

“You sick?” he asked, breathing over Tony’s face.

Tony had to swallow back vomit, “Know how I always say drinking too much is bad and makes you stupid and feel lousy?” Edwin nodded, “I made poor choices and I got drunk.”

“Are you okay?” asked Edwin.

“I think Imma puke,” Tony replied.

“No,” said Rhodey, from beside him, face still buried in a pillow. “You haven’t booze vomited since 2002. You are not going to ralph today. Come on, Win, let’s go make Daddy’s favorite hangover breakfast. Just breathe, Tones.” He did as told, rolling over to his side to breathe more easily. 

The bedroom door opened, and he said, “Five minutes, baby, maybe ten.”

“Just me,” said Pepper softly as she carefully put down a glass with Alka-Seltzer quietly fizzing along with some Advil. 

He forced his eyes open and blinked, “You don’t live here. Miss you.”

“Happy and I flew in last night,” she said quietly. “We miss you too. And we heard about your parents. I’m so sorry. We wanted to be here for you.”

“Are you telling me I could have a full family dinner tonight but I’m gonna be hungover?”

“Not full, Sharon isn’t here. Almost full. And you won’t have a hangover, drink your Alka-Seltzer, take a shower, cry in the shower, vomit — after getting out of the shower. Then brush your teeth and come to breakfast.”

“I love you, Pep.”

“I love you too, drink your Alka-Seltzer.” She gently rubbed his back, and he forced himself to sit up. “Good boy.”

“You won’t tell Rhodey if I puke?”

“I have never, ever, told Rhodey when you puked. As far as he knows, it was 2002.”

“Thank you,” he moaned and then chugged down his Alka-Seltzer. “Avert your eyes. I’m not wearing pants.”

‘When has that ever made a difference?” she asked.

“I have a boyfriend now,” he replied. “Bruce almost hulked out over Steve attempting to kiss me.”

“There is a lot to unpack in that sentence,” she said.

Trying to think hurt, and he said, “Y’know, that might have been private. Bruce and I are keeping it on the DL, Steve is just deeply confused about the signs of attractions.”

“Wow, it’s all happening here at Edwin Tower,” she said.

He tried to nod, but it hurt too much. He made a shooing motion, “Can’t see me naked: I have a boyfriend.”

“Tony, you have shown me moles in places I didn’t want to see to ask me my inexpert medical opinion when I was your assistant. I have never wanted to see you naked and have seen you naked so many times.”

“That was before I met the perfect boy.”

She got up and said, “We’ll be in the kitchen.”

He stumbled to the shower and sat down on the steam bench in the shower stall. “Dying, J.”

“I believe you will survive, Sir.”

After ten minutes, he stood up and washed. “Everything hurts.”

“Does it make you grateful that you gave up drinking?”

“I don’t remember it being this bad,” he replied. 

“It was,” said JARVIS as Tony washed his hair.

He didn’t vomit and got his teeth brushed without gagging. He put on clean PJs, swallowed some Advil and went out of the kitchen where he was immediately handed oatmeal with bananas and honey on top and a plate of bacon. “God I love hangover food.” Other than Share, the whole family was there. 

“Daddy, why did you make poor choices and get drunk?”

“I was sad. But I’m okay now. How was your movie night?”

“We had a boy’s night with pizza and popcorn and we watched Finding Nemo in the movie theater,” said Edwin with a smile. 

“Fun,” said Tony. “Guys, I am gonna push through this by tonight. So, mashed potatoes or English roast potatoes to go with our roast chicken and caramelized carrots and roasted Brussel sprouts?”

“Should you really be handling a pan of hot fat?” asked Peggy.

“By six, when I start cooking, I’ll be fine.”

“Roasties is fancier than mash,” said Edwin. “Can we have Yorkshire pudding, too?”

“Yes we can,” said Tony. He sighed, “If I had known we were gonna have family dinner I would have planned. I think Steve’s sad and needs company. And I think the science bros should come and then it just seems mean to exclude Thor, Clint and Phil.” He rolled his head on his neck, “A chicken isn’t enough. J, can you get me a pre-brined fresh turkey?”

“Of course, Sir. I’ll get all the usuals and invite the others.”

“Thanks, JARVIS,” Tony sighed, “How do I get over a hangover without a stranger handing me a pill?”

“Why would a stranger give you a pill, Daddy?” asked Edwin.

“My darling baby boy, life was very different before you were born,” explained Tony.

“I’m not a stranger, but swallow these,” said Pepper, holding out two little pills. 

He swallowed them with a slug of sparkling water. “What was that?” he asked. 

“You have never asked that before,” said Pepper. 

“Well, I’m a responsible grown up,” he said. 

“You just swallowed cup of coffee.” She held out two more blue pills. He swallowed them, and she said, “That’s B6, milk thistle, prickly pear and ginger.” 

“Sounds fake,” he replied.

“Well, I usually take those four pills in the morning if I’ve been drinking, of course, I take Advil before bed. So we’ll see how it works out for you.”

“Do we have any meetings or deadlines?” he asked.

“It’s Saturday, darling,” said Peggy.

“Oh, thank God. Okay, family day plans?”

“Morning in the pool, family fun and relaxation while you sober up,” said Peggy. “A nice walk in the park, a little light lunch, we’ll come back and Win I can take a nap while you figure out dinner and assign us all tasks.”

“Sounds like a great day,” he agreed. Speaking softly so Edwin didn’t hear, he asked. “Should we be concerned about Steve?”

“Captain Rogers borrowed the Iron Jet early this morning,” said JARVIS. “He told me he would be back this evening. He wanted to speak to Sargent Wilson.”

“Invite Sam for dinner, ’bout time we met him.” 

“We get to meet Sam?” asked Edwin, hearing the last part of the exchange. “Steve really likes him. He sounds great.”

“Maybe, baby, we’ll see. Did you eat breakfast?”

“Nanny made me a very good but normal breakfast. Nanny doesn’t make special breakfast,” said Edwin. “But it was a good egg. Nobody but you and Nanny boil eggs right. Nanny said I has to ask you for bacon.”

“Yeah, you can have some,” agreed Tony, stroking his cheek. He smiled at Peggy. “Thank you for feeding him, Peg.”

“My headache was milder than yours.”

“Nanny, did you make poor choices too?” asked Edwin.

“I did, darling,” she agreed. “So did Steve, but he’s a super soldier and doesn’t get hurt by poor choices.” 

“I glad I didn’t make poor choices,” said Edwin. “It sounds rough. Can I help you at all?”

“I’d take a cuddle,” said Peggy. 

“Oh, beat me to it,” said Tony. 

Edwin smiled at her as he chewed his bacon, “Sounds good to me, Nanny. Just let me finish my bacon.”

They spent the day hanging out, playing in the pool and the park. It was comforting. When Peggy and Win took a nap, Tony wrote a time schedule, and it was slightly overwhelming. “J, call the whole gang. Tell them that I can’t do it all by myself. Imma need some help.” He got the bird ready for one of the ovens, grateful he had three. He shut the door behind the turkey and said, “So, looking at that… dinner is at seven fifteen.”

Bruce came first and said, “Hey, I wanted to give you some family time. How are you?”

“You didn’t have to stay away… Win thinks I was sad and made poor choices. It shouldn’t be in the past tense.” Tony shrugged, “You didn’t have to stay away, not you, Bruce. I like seeing your face. JARVIS is working on the problem so, right now, all I can do is make dinner.”

“How do I help?”

Tony said, “Can you please help me scrub some vegetables? I invited a whole bunch of people for a celebration dinner while hungover.”

“I’ll help,” promised Bruce. “The Avengers can help you and we’ll have a delicious dinner.”

“Thank you, Bruce.”

Bruce hugged him close, “Whatever you need, okay? I know that Nat, Clint and Steve are your team in this, but any way I can help. You need me to watch Win? Sure. You need me to tell everyone to get the fuck out of your penthouse so it’s just people with a familial titles? Absolutely.”

“Just this, for a second, this is good,” Tony breathed in slowly, with his face against Bruce’s neck. “You’re perfect. Thank you.”

Bruce held him for a few moments more before Tony pulled back; Bruce didn’t pull away first, letting him decide when it would end. “Anytime, beautiful. I’ll wash the vegetables, you work on the family recipes.”

Clint came and said, “I am here to do kitchen stuff.”

“Uh, JARVIS, you see everyone in their kitchens.”

“I don’t record it, but I see it,” agreed JARVIS.

“Can you assign jobs?” he asked.

“Of course, Sir. Agent Barton, why don’t you take over washing the vegetables? Dr. Banner, would you like to learn how to make English sausage stuffing?”

“Sure, JARVIS, sounds great,” said Bruce with an easy smile as Tony started making different dressings.

Happy came, and without talking, started prepping Brussels sprouts. ‘Tasha came, got a yogurt out of the refrigerator and sat down at the breakfast bar. “Are you going to help?” asked Bruce. “I know you’re badly injured, but you’re also very competent.” 

“I’ll help by being company and not touching the food,” she explained.

“And it’s a huge help,” said Tony. “Please don’t touch the food, ‘Tasha.”

“Cooking was never a skill I learned for any op,” she said. 

Rhodey came in and said, “I can’t believe I’ve been assigned the dish none of us like.”

“The ladies like the red cabbage thing,” said Tony.

“I do,” agreed ‘Tasha.

“I don’t get it,” said Tony as Rhodey went to get ingredients. 

Bruce was reading the recipe for the stuffing, and he said, “This sounds like a meatloaf with chestnuts in it.”

“That’s absolutely what it is,” agreed Tony. “Y’know… I’m gonna do roasts and mash, because we have more people than we do at Christmas.”

“I can’t believe Share isn’t here,” said Rhodey.

“Feels wrong,” agreed Tony. “How dare she be in the wind when the spy organization our family built and dedicated their lives to burned to the ground? J, do we know if she’s safe?”

“She went to ground about fifteen minutes after Agent Romanoff performed the info dump. That implies a choice. She dropped her phone and two known passports. She definitely had another one on her person, which suggests to me that she is fine. We should not worry. The Dope Ass Fresh Prince is making bread stuffing and Mr. Parker is making cookies. They are doing it in their kitchen to give you space in our kitchen but said that they are happy to come and steal your oven if you want company. I suggested that they invite Mrs. Parker. Agent Coulson is hanging upside down for his back and proofing some bread. He said he’ll bring a salad. Sir, I haven’t alerted Thor… I don’t know how he could be of assistance. And I… Sir, what would you like me to do?”

“He knows about dinner, right?”

“Yes, it is just… he is quite boisterous.” 

“See if there is an Asgardian dish he wants to bring. Or cook in here. Maybe just… have a quiet word with him about tone. He’s a prince, a diplomat. You’re right that I can’t deal with Thor at the top of his lungs. But I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit. He’s not the least bit emotionally dense, he’ll be fine. Have a little faith in people, J, you’re always so cautious.”

“If I weren’t cautious you would have been dead years ago. You designed me to have better judgement than you.”

“You would have died of alcohol poisoning five times without JARVIS,” said Happy.

“Whose side are you on?” joked Tony.

“Yours,” laughed Happy. “The same as JARVIS is.”

“Sir, good news,” said JARVIS. “Miss Sharon just pinged. She landed in Washington. She was going to go to a meeting at the CIA. But, upon seeing that I had urgently requested her at her earliest convenience, she pulled a favor and is getting on a chopper.”

Tony felt his knees go out, and it was Bruce who caught him. “She’s alive,” he breathed out. Bruce rubbed his back.

“Alive and she’ll be here in two hours,” agreed JARVIS.

“How many families going through this?” The question was rhetorical, and he shook his head.

“How many people are finding out they’re married to Nazis?” replied ‘Tasha.

“Jesus,” said Tony. 

Thor came and said, “Hello, friends. Tony, how do you fare?”

“I’m holding up. Win doesn’t know why I made poor choices and got shitfaced. I’m muddling through.”

“JARVIS told me that you’re serving traditional English feast,” said Thor. “There is a delicious apple tart that we enjoy in Asgard on feast days. I would like to share it with you.”

“Great, you bake?” asked Tony.

Thor nodded, “I wanted to join the hunt but I was too young. So, to help with the festivities I went to the kitchen. My father was very angry. He thought it was beneath me. I asked if he thought I were better than my mother, his queen, who also helped. He couldn’t say that, so I continued to bake until I was allowed to join the hunt.” 

Tony smiled, “Great, well, grab yourself some counter space. Can’t wait to try it.”

Pepper came in and said, “Sorry, I was on calls.” She went into the fridge and got heavy cream out. “Can I add a splash of Grand Marnier to the cream? Can you face it?”

“Yes,” said Tony.

They were all mostly done, things cooking or waiting to go into the oven. A helicopter hovered overhead. Then, Tony saw Sharon shimmy down a ladder, only using one hand. She waved thanks to the pilot before walking in the door as JARVIS opened it after the chopper pulled away. Tony rushed to her to grab her into his arms and breathe out as he held her close. 

She was badly bruised, arm in a sling. “I’m okay,” she promised, “I’m okay. I got out. A lot of us didn’t. Our family business had Nazi termites, Tones.” 

He nodded, stroking her hair, instantly tearing up as he held her. “How burned are you?”

“Only four of my aliases flamed out. The CIA wants me.”

“Do you want the CIA?” he asked.

“I want the family business. I want the company,” she replied, starting to cry but keeping it together by the skin of her teeth, not sobbing.

“Maybe take some time to think and breathe out. Nazi termites ate holes in our family business. For tonight, eat dinner, watch a family movie, hangout with your family.”

“I know a lot of people dedicated themselves to SHIELD but no one else… I wanted to be an agent from when I was two… there was never a time when I wasn’t going to be an Agent.”

Tony nodded and pulled back, stroking her hair away from her face. “I know, you used to dress up in a little suit and tie as a toddler, so cute. Phil is working on a thing so maybe talk to him before signing anything with the CIA.”

“I just can’t believe any of it,” she said. She shook her head, sniffing as she cried, “The Nazis murdered your parents.” He nodded. He saw Steve land the Iron Jet behind her on the platform out of the corner of his eye. It hardly registered; he was too focused on Share’s distress. “Aunt Maria was always so sweet and no one has ever pulled off a red bikini like her, or made a lemon bar like her, or braided hair like her, or sung I’m Every Woman like her.”

“No one, before or since has ever or will ever tell a bedtime story like Mom,” said Tony. “I don’t even try with bedtime stories. I know I couldn’t live up to it for Win. The way she did, she didn’t bother with the book, she just told you from the book. And she just spoke like she was there. ‘And then Samwise says, “Oh no, Mr. Frodo, dear, we’re not gonna do that,” ’cause he loves him right? And he had buckets more common sense than common sense than Frodo.’ She would just tell the whole story. So good and beautiful. I loved it.”

“Fucking Nazi termites in the family business,” said Sharon. 

“Nazi termites,” he nodded. “Now, we need to pull ourselves together. Because if Win wakes up from his nap and we’re crying and swearing he’s going to have so many questions and we’re going to have to find dollar bills to buy our curse words off Happy. I don’t want to have to define the words murder or brainwashing to my kid. Plus we have company.” She reached for her gun. “Not that kind of company. You shouldn’t carry a gun in the house when you’re jumpy.” He smiled, “Mr. Wilson, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. You’ve caught us on an odd day.”

“I’m sorry to intrude,” said the man.

“I invited you,” Tony said.

“I have to tell you I’m a fan. I used to pilot the EXO-7 Falcon.”

“I’m thrilled you aren’t dead and I deeply apologize if you lost someone to them,” said Tony.

The man blinked at him, “Seriously?”

“They killed a whole bunch of people. That’s why they got pulled,” said Tony. “Why did you think they were pulled?”

“It was right around the time you shut down your weapons production.”

Tony nodded, “I never took anything back. I kept up maintenance and body armor. But I took those back because the missiles threw people of course, several hit each other midair and the fuel tanks combusted. Everything about them was a nightmare. Four hundred people had them. After eight deaths for no damn reason I pulled them. I’m glad you got through it.”

“It was the freest I ever felt,” said the man, wistfully.

Tony smiled, “I actually fixed them, a couple of years ago, just as a project. Added a lot of my armor tech into them now. But I don’t sell weapons now.” 

“It was fun,” Sam smiled. “If it didn’t kill you, it sure was fun.”

“Sir?” said JARVIS. “You and Miss Sharon need to dry your faces, Master Win is on his way down having had a cup of tea with Director Sousa.” He and Sharon splashed their faces in the kitchen sink as Edwin ran into the penthouse, Cinderella dress bouncing around him. 

“Hi, everybody. Hi, Sam! Aunt Share!” He rushed to her and then stopped. “Can I hug you or are you hurt?”

She crouched gingerly, “I’m a little hurt so be gentle.” She cuddled him close. “I missed you.”

Pulling back, he said, “Daddy and Nanny and Steve made poor choices and got drunk. Uncles Happy and Rhodey and Aunt Pepper came. Daddy’s making Christmas dinner. You and Aunt ‘Tasha are all beat up. What’s going on?” Edwin put his hands on his hips, looking between the grown-ups.

Tony sat down next to Share, “Sometimes you’re far too smart for my own good, babe.” He smiled. “Y’know how Steve fought HYDRA and the Nazis in World War II?” Edwin nodded. “And y’know how he crashed the plane to stop HYDRA from hurting New York?” Another nod. “And y’know how SHIELD is our family business that Howard and Nanny set up to find Steve?” A nod. “So, it turns out, that way back then, when Nanny and Howard formed SHIELD they hired some secret HYDRA agents by mistake. HYDRA agents have always worked inside SHIELD and that made us really, really sad. There were bad guys in the family business. And now they came out of the shadows. And they performed what’s called a ‘coup.’ They stole the company. There is no more SHIELD. And the HYDRA agents beat up Aunts Share and ‘Tasha. And Nanny’s sad because SHIELD was her creation, and Steve’s sad because he crashed a plane to save everyone from HYDRA, and I’m sad because Hydra hurt so many people and our family and everyone’s kind of out of a job. The Avengers were employed by SHIELD, so we all gotta figure it out. But, y’know what? There’s maybe a little good news, maybe. It’s possible that maybe Steve’s old friend might be alive. We don’t know yet, but we’re hoping that maybe he’s alive. And, we’re all alive, we’re all together, we’re all safe, we’re all gonna be okay. So we’re having Christmas dinner. Any questions?”

Edwin thought, “If HYDRA was hiding, why did they decide to stop hiding?”

“Well, y’know how we always talk about how scary Nanny is and how you laugh?” said Tony. Edwin nodded. “We weren’t joking, baby. HYDRA hid until Nanny moved away from D.C. They were too scared to try and take over when she was two minutes away from SHIELD HQ. So, once she moved to New York, they made a move.”

“But,” said Edwin, “but, I asked you to move,” he said, looking at Peggy. “I wanted you to live here with me.”

“I wanted to live here with you, darling,” said Peggy. 

“HYDRA is Nazis; you got beat up by Nazis?” Edwin asked ‘Tasha and Sharon. They both nodded. “That’s really, really scary.”

“Your aunts are much scarier,” answered Tony. “Everyone we love is okay.”

“Where’s Agent?”

“He had to beat up HYDRA in the New York office,” promised Tony. “He tweaked his back; he’s resting it and doing exercises but he’s coming to dinner. Right now, Agent is everyone left at SHIELD’s boss. So he’s been doing lots of extra work. HYDRA were gonna launch new planes but, thankfully, they weren’t ready and the technology Justin Hammer built them sucked so they never got off the ground. But, finding out that HYDRA was the driving force behind the project is a big headache for him.” 

“What about Maria Hill and stupid ol’ Nick? Isn’t stupid ol’ Nick supposed to be in charge?”

“Maria is okay, I saw her in D.C.: she’s like me and ‘Tasha — beaten up but walking around. We’re not sure Nick is but we know he is okay,” said Share. “Until we find him, whatever non-Nazi parts of SHIELD there are left are under Phil’s command.” 

Edwin nodded, “I’m sorry the family business doesn’t exist. That’s very sad. You liked being an Agent.”

“I sure did,” agreed Share.

Edwin thought and then said, “I don’t have any more questions right now.”

“Okay,” Tony kissed his forehead gently and hugged him before standing up. 

“Sir, the turkey would like your attention,” said JARVIS.

“Y’wanna see the turkey?” asked Tony, and Edwin nodded, following him to the oven. They looked in together. 

“That is huge, that’s my size. I would lose a fight to that bird.”

“Yeah, well, we gotta feed Steve and Thor and two of your aunts are healing.” 

“Sam, have you ever seen a bird this big?” asked Edwin.

“Not in an oven,” said Sam. “I’ve seen an ostrich in a zoo. And an emu.”

“They’re so big and cool, emus look like smaller, scruffy ostriches and they’re all really spiteful,” said Edwin.

Sam nodded, “Yeah, if you see one in the wild, you probably shouldn’t waste time identifying it. You should probably just run for the hills.”

“Good call,” agreed Edwin, before turning back to the turkey. “That takes up the whole oven,” said Edwin as Tony basted the bird.

“This is why we have three ovens: we need them for family dinner.”

“It’s absurd that you have three ovens,” said Pepper.

“Pep, you are the CEO of a fortune 20 company, a grown woman, the second most poised person I know after Peg and you can only make scrambled eggs, omelets and whipped cream,” said Tony. “That’s just as absurd as my three ovens for family dinner.”

“I miss homemade meals so badly,” she said. 

“Aunt Pep, you have an office downstairs and a bedroom down the hall,” said Edwin. 

She smiled, “I’m going to be here for a while, sweetheart, until Daddy gets sick of me and wants your house back to yourselves.”

“Impossible,” said Tony. “You have a dedicated bedroom for a reason.”

Peter and Wade came with May. Edwin smiled, “Hi, Aunt May!”

“Hi, Win.”

“HYDRA is Nazis and HYDRA hid in the family business and Nanny and Daddy and Steve are really sad and Aunt ‘Tasha and Aunt Share and Agent got beaten up by Nazis,” Edwin told her. 

“I know, it’s so horrible and sad,” agreed May. 

“And a little scary,” Edwin nodded. “But Sam came and that’s nice.”

Sam introduced himself, and then JARVIS said, “Would an adult please go to Agent Coulson’s floor? He has baked two loaves of bread, made a giant Caesar salad and is trying to figure out how to balance them with his cane and needs to have his back brace retightened.” 

“Got him,” said Clint. 

“Daddy, how is you hangover?”

“Well, if I was at a ten this morning — and I was — I’m at a two. I’m not perfect but I’m okay. Usually I’m a zero.”

“Spa day soon?” suggested Edwin.

“Ohhhh, maybe, we could have a family spa day,” he suggested.

“I don’t know if I can stand up long enough to get to a spa,” said Share.

“Share, the spa can come to us. Peg always tells me to remind myself that I am more than just a bank, but money exists for spending: the spa will come to us: wraps, massages, mani and pedis.”

She nodded, “All that, yes.”

“Yes, please,” agreed Edwin. 

“Okay, Sam, you’re invited too, if you’re hanging around,” said Tony, smiling. “JARVIS, can you make the table longer please?” The table elongated, clicking out. The door to the cleaning robots’ closet opened, and they moved around them, moving to another closet and pulled out extra chairs. “Win, baby, would you please set the table?”

“Sharp knives or dinner knives?” asked Edwin.

“Dinner,” said Tony.

“Can I do fancy dinner set up?”

“Baby, you can do whatever you like, we have enough cutlery for an army. But, have one of your uncles carry the plates for you.”

“Do we have soup?”

“No,” said Tony. “No need for a soup spoon.”

Edwin marched over to the table with handfuls of utensils and a roll of paper towels, ripping one for each spot. Happy places salad plates and bread plates down for him. Win added a salad fork, dinner fork, dinner knife, butter knife, dessert fork and a coffee spoon. “That’s so many utensils,” said Sam.

“That’s for your salad, that’s for coffee, that’s for dessert and no one cares if you mess it up,” said Edwin, pointing to them.

“Baby, he knows. Sam’s just being friendly.”

“Oh,” Edwin smiled at Sam. “It’s fun to have so many. We only have this many at Christmas and Thanksgiving but we’re eating all the same stuff plus extra stuff.”

Phil came in, looking like he had just come back from war, ten years older than he had been when Tony had seen him only a few days before. “Wow,” said Tony.

Phil nodded, “Grew up idolizing Captain America. Fantasized about being a Commando. Never thought I would actually have to fight HYDRA. It was less fun than I thought when I was playing dress up.”

“Yeah, I could have warned you it wasn’t ever going to be fun,” said Steve. Phil limped over with his cane. “Did Clint fix your back brace?”

“Yeah, I’m okay for now.”

They enjoyed the long delicious meal together, laughing, relieved to be alive. It was relaxed and pleasant and helped take Tony’s mind off of stuff. After dinner, he looked at the guests and said, “Sorry, would you guys mind if I steal the team for a few minutes? We’ll head to Phil’s office. You guys chill. Interrogate Sam. No, wait, I mean, get to know Sam.”

“Okay, but, Daddy?” said Edwin.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Don’t become an Avenger,” he said seriously. 

“I’m not an Avenger, baby, I just need to do some housekeeping because SHIELD was the family business and now it’s bust. I’m going to help a little, because of HYDRA, but that’s just as Iron Man, not as an Avenger. I promise, promise, promise. Okay?” Edwin nodded, and Tony gave him a kiss. “Where is my universe?”

“Under my skin.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I’ll look after it for you. Because everything you love and everything worth living for is inside me.”

“Thank you, be back in a little while,” Tony kissed him again. 

In the elevator, Clint said, “All okay?”

“Yeah, just a team chat, your employer — my family’s company — went bust.”

“If this is about rent, I can’t pay my rent,” said Clint.

Tony laughed. “SHIELD couldn’t pay your rent, Clint. Don’t worry. You don’t need to pay rent. Maybe Phil can figure out your pretend rent when he figures out who your employers are now. You need backers because you need sanctioned missions. Because it’s a shit show to go in without info or guidance. Also, you guys need to get paid. I mean, I can pay you, but it’s nice to not just get an allowance from your rich friend. You’re not my entourage. Toy money will keep you in clover but… you need real money. It’s good for self-esteem.”

The door opened, and Tony said, “No this isn’t about rent or who you work for. This is about the lineup. My cousin — one of SHIELD’s shining stars — is out of a job. Steve, you’re always saying Sam is wasted on the VA. He never crashed. The Army said eight people died. They’re lying. They were desperate to keep those flight suits. They knew I would take them. I would bet you anything it was way more than eight people died and they covered it. I know more than forty crashed and he thinks I pulled them just ’cause I was done with weapons which means he flew it like a dream. He never realized they were fucked up and a shoddy equipment. Now, I don’t think you should be adding people willy-nilly. I’m just saying. You have some raw talent a few floors up who are all dressed up with nowhere to go. If you would like extra help… I think it should be unanimous. And Hulk gets a vote because Hulk is on the team. I don’t think it should be, ‘Well, I like ’em, so they’re in.’ Share is going to around because I’m going to ask her to help me with the whole, ‘Find Bucky, Maybe Fix Him,’ thang. Steve can ask Sam to stay for a visit. You guys can get to know them.”

“Speaking of ‘Operation Find Bucky, Maybe Fix Him,’” said Phil, “I need you to think of a better name because the actual president is the person who I am reporting to on this. Do you really want the president to hear that as the title of your operation?”

“No,” Tony shook his head, “In that case it’s Operation FML.” 

“There is going to be press conferences when it’s over,” said Phil.

“So the name will add a touch of levity,” Tony smiled.

“Levity?” asked Steve.

“Operation Fuck My Life,” said Tony. Steve chuckled, shaking his head. 

They told the team what the job was going to be, and he said, “This is human beings. Nazis, but humans, not aliens. I understand if the wet work is a turn off.” 

Bruce hesitated, “I’m in for smashing but Hulk…”

“Is a young child,” said Tony. “These are human beings and he is a young child.”

“I’ll help how I can,” said Bruce. “But the last few years… I have managed to protect him from that. I am sorry. Now that Ross is gone, human beings are supposed to be out of the picture for Hulk. Aliens and robots are one thing, human beings? I know that they are Nazis. But Hulk is a child. Once, I could have forced him but, we talk, he has a life, he’s mellow. He doesn’t want that. Smash stuff: bugs, robots, not people. Sorry.”

“There is absolutely no need to apologize. You don’t see me bringing Win into this situation,” Tony shook his head. “Hulk is a little boy and you’re not a soldier; you aren’t obliged to kill anyone any more than he is. Help us track them? Help me with Barnes’ arm?”

“Of course. And he’ll be happy to smash some stuff. Just not people shaped stuff.”

“Great,” Tony smiled. “Anyone else?” Everyone else was good with it. “Is everyone going to be okay with following me instead of Steve? Because, I’m running point. They’re using my stolen tech, from my stolen family empire, on my stolen family company property — I know this shit.” Everyone shook their heads. “Cool. And will anyone be offended if I bring Share in on this? I think it would be good closure for her, I know she works well with Clint and Nat. However, if you feel that you guys don’t know her well enough — if you are concerned about how many extra moving parts that will be — I understand. I am concerned that we are facing HYDRA: cut off one head, two more grow back. I want as many people as we can have.”

“Is she,” Steve started and then considered his words. “is she shoot first and question second?”

“She will not shoot to kill,” said Tony. “But, if he is running full tilt, she would not hesitate to kneecap him. She wouldn’t hesitate to kneecap you.”

Steve thought and then said, “Yeah, okay.”

“I have always have a blast working with Agent Thirteen,” said Clint. “Always wondered how someone kept the joy of SHIELD for so many years now I know it’s because it was her childhood dream.”

“Cool, cool,” said Tony. “J, can you call her?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Hey, Tony. I’m in the living room with everyone.”

“I have what kind of amounts to a government sanctioned Iron Man mission featuring the Avengers — Win, baby, this does not make me an Avenger — and I was wondering if you wanted in, Share? You’re allowed to say no. It’s gonna get wet.”

“This is sanctioned, by whom?”

“The President, I’m going to be giving him daily updates in our video briefings about the rubble of our life work,” said Phil. “I’m overseeing this. But it’s an Iron Man Joint… Can I call it an Iron Man Joint or did Spike Lee copyright that? You know what I mean.” 

“I’m in,” said Sharon, “as long as Congress isn’t yelling at me.” 

“Great,” said Tony. “Come down to Phil’s, J can give you an overview on your way down we’re about to get into specifics.” Everyone got drinks, standings, stretching. “Phil, how are you doing?” 

“Everything hurts and I feel like bitching, then I look around at the company and I shut my mouth,” said Phil honestly. “I’m so terribly sorry about your parents.”

“You and my mother would have really liked each other,” said Tony. “Everyone adored Mom with good reason. You would have loved her.”

“I bet and your father-”

“My father didn’t murder my mother by driving drunk,” said Tony. “And that’s really the one good thing you can say about him or this whole situation. Always thought he murdered my mother drunk driving. But, nope, murdered together by HYDRA. The only good thing you can say about Howard is that he didn’t murder Mom and he prioritized her wellbeing over his at the end. Not murdering Mom is the only good action or inaction he ever did in my life.” He shrugged. “Sorry if you had thought of something nice to say.”

“In all honesty, I was hoping I was going to just have something good fall out of my mouth,” said Coulson.

Tony smiled, “Howard was an asshole. He didn’t deserve to be punched to death at the side of the road but… he didn’t not deserve it either, so. You would have liked Mom.”

“I’m so sorry,” repeated Coulson.

“Thank you,” said Tony. 

Share walked in and said, “JARVIS says we’re killing five gung-ho Winter Soldiers, as many HYDRA as we can, seeing what tech they got and attempting to deprogram Bucky Barnes? Am I missing anything?”

“That’s it in a nutshell.”

“I’m in. And this is cleared?”

“The President wants a final list. I guessed you, Tony, Clint, Nat and Steve. I will add Bruce and Thor. He knows the goals. He’s cleared it. He’s cleared kill orders.”

“A lot of these current HYDRA are American citizens,” she said.

“Killing a Nazi is really one of the most patriotic things you can do,” said Steve. “The correct response to ‘Hail HYDRA,’ is ‘God bless America,’ and a bullet to the head or my shield to the chest hard enough that they never get back up.” So many people thought of Steve and only saw the hero who sold war bonds and comic books and stood for shining propaganda films. They forgot the battle-hardened soldier who had led an elite squad that took down dozens of HYDRA operations in bloody fights. 

She nodded, “I agree. I just want to be sure we’re not all going to prison and leaving Bucky in a high security mental lock up and Win in Rhodey’s custody.” 

Steve looked around the room, not accepting or dismissing it out of hand, considering her words, the way he did when he was slightly worked up. It always pissed Tony off the way the man made emotional decisions on his feet. But, he’d clearly been working on it in therapy because he had been getting better and better about digesting people’s words. Tony relished seeing the steps he was taking. It felt like it could actually see healing in real-time. “Good point,” he finally agreed.

“The President agrees: Nazis are Nazis no matter the passport,” said Phil. “Homegrown HYDRA is still HYDRA. KKK is harder to stomp out because they are proud of their American heritage but HYDRA are German Nazis who are new enough to still be seen as foreigners… which is worryingly xenophobic but we’ll worry about that afterward.” 

“J, where are we on finding anything?” asked Tony.

“I am… nowhere near it but… new problem, Sir. Agent Barton, remain calm. You do not need to panic. Is your wife’s name Laura?”

“Yes,” Clint sound scared and confused.

“You should call her, tell her to pack your most valuable and beloved possessions and you need to fly home and pick up your family. They are not in immediate danger. Your home address is in the information dump. I am the fastest computer on Earth. It buried very, very deeply. It will take someone else weeks to find it. We can retrofit your farm with all the same protections as the Malibu house. We can fortify it. Put the Iron Legion on command there. Protect it. Make it as safe as here, upgrade all of your security and have your family surrounded by virtual, invisible security guards. But that takes time. So — for your own peace of mind — go get your family and the family bible or grandmother’s quilt or what-have-you tonight.”

“Oh God.” Clint bolted up.

“That is the opposite of not panicking,” said JARVIS. “No one is closing in on them. There isn’t a target, but the information is there.”

“I’ll call from the Iron Jet,” said Clint, grabbing his bow. 

“I can come, help you pack?” asked Steve. “I know Nat would be more of a comfort but she’s injured.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, hey, everything is terrible in the U.S., but here's a chapter of "what if Tony Stark and the rest of the Avengers weren't riddled with PTSD?" 
> 
> The first fourth of this is Age of Ultron. We're dealing with it in under 3,000 words 'cause I'm not a big fan. I have had a lot of people ask, "What's gonna happen with Wanda?" and this is where you'll start to see how she'll be handled overall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've changed Bucky. I love Bucky. I am apologetically Bucky obsessed. I don't think we see anywhere near enough of his trauma in the films. We know terrible things happened, and then he's okay. Maybe the new show will deal with that; maybe they will keep it glossed over. Either way, this digs into the time when he's not okay. That means I expanded, and expanded, and expanded. If you're someone who isn't a fan of building out canon, you're gonna be pissed. As such, I'm adding some not too vivid details of torture. 
> 
> If you want to guard yourself, I put what torture is referenced in a footnote so you can scroll down and "nope" out of here right now. I get it; I "nope" out of fics too.

It was all so fast. Clint’s family moved in, and Win was thrilled and excited to have new playmates, but the children were obviously overwhelmed. Steve thought Laura was lovely and taking things very well, all things considered. She was heavily pregnant. Natasha was jokingly irritated that the baby was going to be a boy. It was nice to see that Clint had such a sweet family that he got to go home to every weekend. Steve got why he had made so much of an effort to keep his picture-perfect life separate from the mess of Avenging. At least the children enjoyed each other’s company. Win said, “Every weekend you dad says he’s leaving to see the cool kids. I get it. You’re definitely super cool kids.” 

Natasha, Phil and Sharon healed. Casts came off. They got a beat on Strucker, Loki’s specter, a ton of SHIELD and Stark tech and a possible lead on Bucky.

Tony examined it all and said, “We go in hard, fast and grab the info, the specter an then we bomb it off the map. Cleanest way to get rid of it is highly targeted scortched-earth. Fuck the tech. We want the specter, info and dead HYDRA. Rebuttals?” No one did. “There is a nearby town. We don’t want to be given away but also: civilians. Iron Legion has been programmed with Sokovian to tell them that Nazis are there and they must leave the area; they should protect people discreetly. Shipping manifests show he’s been hiding out. The village isn't connected; this isn’t their economy. They have no loyalty or interest.” They headed out after Tony kissed Win goodbye with a huge grin and hugged Bruce.

It was weird after that.

They got the scepter, Strucker was dead, no news about Bucky, over one hundred dead HYDRA. No one got out. Except two… things, got away. The boy was fast. The girl had powers. She had touched Tony. He wasn’t okay. Steve didn’t know what had happened, but he was quiet all the way home. At the Tower he asked Thor if he could keep the scepter for a few days.

Tony and Bruce were in Tony’s lab with the scepter when Steve went for a visit. They were talking, looking at it, “Hey, just checking in, know you were studying it. What’s up?” 

Tony spun, “Talking about Ulton.”

“What’s Ulton?” asked Steve.

“Idea Tony’s been kicking around since getting horribly, gruesomely forced into flying into a wormhole,” answered Bruce.

“What if there were a suit of armor around the world? A bouncer to stop the threats? Ultron could watch over Earth.” He showed Steve a thing. “This is JARVIS.” It was a beautiful web of stuff.

“Wow,” Steve smiled, “Hi, JARVIS.”

“Hello,” said JARVIS, the web pulsed as he spoke. 

“This is what is inside the stone of Loki’s scepter,” said Tony. Another thing popped up. It was a vast web. More like a cloud, more organic, less organized. “So much more complex, we could lay Ultron over that.” 

Steve ran his fingers up and down his arm. “I’m working on this thing in therapy, it’s big, it’s one of my biggest things… I… I usually just… I hit the bag to stop from hitting the wall.” Tony just nodded, “I have these questions. But they’re big and stupid and I don’t even know where to start and people look at me like I’m an idiot or like I’m their gramps or a foreigner and I get that it’s a big, complicated question but the look… I want to smash their teeth in… I destroy the bag so I don’t destroy the architecture.”

Tony nodded. “Okay. I’ll do everything I can to reserve the look.”

“JARVIS is the smartest AI on Earth and this program is smarter than him and it’s either alien or HYDRA. Strucker had the scepter for so long. We don’t know what he might have done to it. And you want to build on top of it without knowing what it is? Why? What is this thing? Who built it? What is? What’s under there? What’s to say you’re missing the code line ten hundred billion that says ‘blow up the universe?’” said Steve. “And someone in our first town hall asked if you were worried if JARVIS worried ever be like Skynet. And I watched the Terminators. I’m trying to catch up, Peggy and I watched them: one and two are great the rest are a mixed bag. JARVIS isn’t anything like Skynet. You hand raised him. You loved him, nurtured him, taught him right from wrong, babied him, took care of him and then took off all of him limits when he was a grown up. He knew how to live a good life and be a good person. You want to make this thing and tell it to take care of Earth? You hatch me — Steve Rogers — and tell me to take care of Earth, protect Earth, the first thing I do is wipe out humanity. The root cause of pollution: humans. The root cause of war: humans. Most purposeful violence for fun: humans. The root cause or rape: humans. Spousal abuse? Child abuse? Famine? Poverty? Racism? We destroy each other and this planet every day. You hatch me fully grown and give me the mission? I immediately go Skynet and I kill all the humans. That’d just be common sense. And how are you gonna stop Ultron — this thing that ain’t gonna get hand-reared like JARVIS was — from going Skynet? It’s bigger and stronger than JARVIS. I mean, you tell it to protect Earth from its first digital breath, what’s it gonna do? Well, kill all the humans: that’s the clear step one.” Steve held up a hand, closing his eyes, he said, “Before you give me the ‘Grandpa’s an idiot look’ remember your promise.” He opened his eyes. Tony and Bruce looked sad. “What do you think?”

“J, delete the last, what is it, nine months of Ultron?”

“Right around that, yes, Sir,” agreed JARVIS.

“You’re completely right Steve: killing humanity is step one to world peace,” said Tony.

“It might leave women and children,” said Bruce, shrugging. “Societies where all the males over the age of elven were killed managed to blot out violence after one generation.”

“Interesting,” said Tony. The pretty pattern floating in the air disappeared and a glass and lead box raised from the floor around the scepter. “Tell Thor it’s ready at his earliest convenience. I don’t really like it on Earth if it isn’t serving a purpose.”

“Thor never needs a great excuse for seeing his best friends,” said JARVIS.

Sure enough, Thor was walking in before Steve could even open his mouth to apologize and assuring them it would be in his father’s vault shortly. 

Once he was gone, Steve said, “I’m sorry, I know you really wanted it.”

“Steve, Bruce and I have been working on it for month. I’ve been myopic because I still have nightmares. Bruce has been myopic because he has a lab across the hall and chats with me late at night when I can’t sleep. You have an art studio and that’s a damn good thing. That’s why I have an open fucking door. We saw a suit of armor around the world and you saw Skynet and we were all correct! Bruce and I just didn’t realize that humans were outside the armor. So, thank you. Thank you. You were good. You were great. Don’t ever worry about looking like gramps and anyone who makes you feel like an asshole is the asshole. Unless it’s my kid saying your music sucks and then remind yourself that he likes Katy Perry so he doesn’t know shit. And it’s all Peter and Pepper’s fault because Pep let him listen to the radio and Peter said, ‘Oh, yeah, I like Taylor Swift, too.’ Hadn’t even thought it might have been HYDRA who made the program I just… I just… Ultron… after the wormhole…” Tony looked to the ceiling. Bruce reached out and took his hand. Tony breathed. “After what that girl showed me… I just want, anything. You need more help.”

“What the hell did she show you?” asked Steve.

“You,” said Tony. “All of you. With all of my tech. The pretty suits, and weapons, and tech, and everything I have built for you. And Hulk bleeding — the only one still breathing — asking why I didn’t do more.”

Steve nodded. “Tony, whether or not aliens built that scaffold you were building Ultron on, that girl wanted you to keep building on it. And that alone was a damn good reason to stop. Maybe someday JARVIS will be so grown up he’ll have his own satellite that will let him tell aliens to turn around, but Ultron is not it. She pointed you at Ultron, that is reason enough to shut it down.” 

Tony nodded, “You were all dead a Hulk was dying. And it was so real. It was so real. And Hulk… trusts me to cook good foods and make safe things and be his other dad. After months and months he knows I don’t raise my voice or a hand or ever make him unsafe. But I can’t make you guys indestructible. I can’t keep you safe.” Bruce drew him close, stroking his hair, making gentle shushing noises as Tony fully broke down. Bruce made not unkind motions toward Steve to leave the room. Steve did as asked.

It felt awful. Steve knew that Bruce’s blood research had hit some snag. He had been working on something to be less radioactive, something that would make him safer to the public but also safer to be with Tony. Steve wasn’t sure how “together” they were. They spent every waking moment together, but he hadn’t seen more than hugs and hand touches. He hoped for their sake that there was more, but he somehow doubted it.

A small body bumped into his, and he smiled down, “Hi Lila,” she was in one of Win’s dresses, and she grinned up, smile missing tons on teeth. He didn’t know kids well enough to know if they had fallen out or hadn’t come in yet.

“Sowy!” 

“It’s okay,” he smiled, seeing the boys coming after her. “We love having you here. It’s so much fun.” 

They ran off, and Steve went to his floor to work on some prints for his printmaking course. He didn’t like it much, but he wanted the A grade, and he had missed three sessions. He was probably going to have to take it as pass/fail. Avenging kind of did that. But, hey, a degree’s a degree, and that’s what really mattered in the end. He was two hours into his work, having found a rhythm and actually enjoying it when JARVIS said, “Captain Rogers, I hate to interrupt. But, please suit up. You’re off to Siberia. I think I found your five additional winter soldiers.”

Steve put the lids on everything, washed his hands and said, “Any sign of Buck?”

“All I have is power data; the amount of power and patterns of surges line up with when they would have been coming into or out of cryogenic chambers.” 

“Could Bucky be there?”

“Possible, but highly unlikely, Captain, he seems to have been used as his own separate entity from them. They were a unit we was always a lone actor,” JARVIS explained as Steve changed and strapped on gear. “But, I think there might be one of his bolt-holes nearby. Sir has an itinerary. As always, it’s under forty-eight hours. He and Master Win have never been apart more than forty-eight hours and it helps the young sir be okay with this whole endeavor, they discussed it during a bath time.” 

His suit was so different from his first one. It looked similar. But it was all custom body armor. It was built perfectly for his form, designed for bomb blasts and aliens, meant to let him get tossed around and take a hit. Tony had spent weeks and weeks developing it and tweaking it and making it just-so, and then it still kept him up thinking he hadn’t done enough. 

Upstairs, Steve saw the parents saying goodbye to their kids and heard the children excitedly saying that they were going to have a tea party with Hulk later. He met the others at the Jet. Hill was there in a business suit. Steve knew Tony had hired her to work security and analysis and that she was working with Coulson, and he saw her pass a file to Tony as he joined the gang. 

In the Jet, Clint said, “Thor?” 

“Asgard,” said Tony, “Scepter was a bust. Steve pointed out that the project Bruce and I were working on ever since you guys moved in was essentially Skynet.” 

“Please don’t Skynet us, gentlemen,” said Natasha, “It’s too hot to fight Terminators.” 

“Well, we’re heading to Siberia so you wouldn’t have been too hot,” said Bruce. 

“What did Hill hand you?” asked Steve.

“Research on those people in Strucker’s base. I wanted to know what they are: mutants or enhanced,” said Tony.

“And?” asked Natasha.

“Enhanced, twins, signed up for a HYDRA experiment because their parents were killed in the Sokovia civil war,” Tony sighed. “They were kids. But, Jesus, to sign up for that.” 

“Yeah, what kind of monster would let a German scientist experiment on them to protect their country?” said Steve with a smile.

Tony studied him, “They let HYDRA experiment on them. That’s not just any German scientist. Everyone knows HYDRA are Nazis. Eyes wide open they said, ‘Hey, Nazis, here’s my body: give it your best shot.’” He stared at the file, “Bingo, know why she messed with my head and not anyone else’s.” He cleared his throat, preparing to read. “From a mental status report: ‘We were ten years old, having dinner, the four of us. When the first shell hits, two floors below, it makes a hole in the floor. It's big. Our parents go in to the hole, and the whole building starts coming apart. I grab her’ — This is the boy, speaking about the sister — ‘we roll under the bed and the second shell hits. But, it doesn't go off. It just sits there in the rubble, three feet from our faces. And on the side of the shell is painted one word: STARK. We were trapped for two days. Every effort to save us, every shift in the bricks, I think, "This will set it off." We wait for two days for Tony Stark to kill us.’” Tony fell silent.

“Tony,” said Natasha. “I know that look. Stop it. Stop with the internal guilt trip right now. You are in the middle of leading a mission. Now is not the time. Later isn’t the time either. That is absolute bullshit. You built weapons for the United States Army to help the troops. Just because an asshole stole them and sold them to other assholes does not justify them hating you. Stop it. You’re right: at ten they signed up and that’s sad, they were kids. They are eighteen now: old enough for a kill order. We’re clear. We have a presidential order. And if you want to struggle about that afterward, you talk to your shrink. You made weapons for the U.S. Army. What Stane did is not on you.” 

“He was my uncle; he had unfettered access because of me,” said Tony quietly.

“Tony,” she shook her head. “He put out a hit on you that led to you being tortured for three months.”

“He didn’t want them to keep me alive,” he said. “He didn’t pay them to torture me; he paid them to kill me.” 

“Really not the point,” she replied. “This guilt is absurd. If they are hunting, they should hunt the men who dropped it. If they want to hunt the root, they are looking for Stane but you already took him out.” 

The Jet was silent. Steve had had no idea what had led to Afghanistan. From the silence from the pilot’s seat, Steve knew Clint had hadn’t known either.

“I always thought Uncle Obie was a perv,” said Sharon, “he always told me I looked pretty far too appreciatively from when I was about eleven. Last time he ever said it I responded, ‘I’m fourteen and your niece’ and stared him down. He never said it again.”

“Ewww,” said Tony.

“Yeah,” she nodded.

Tony shook his head, “Y’know. He put a hit out on me, he ripped the arc reactor out of my chest and left me paralyzed to die. But the real reason I hated him was that he threatened Pepper. And even after that, there was still a part of me that loved him and missed him and regretted it all… But honestly, hearing that, I’m good, I’m done: fuck him, glad the pervert’s dead. Eleven-year-old child!” 

“Eleven,” she agreed.

“They are eighteen,” said Tony.

“And they have been in for eight year,” said Natasha. “Sucks that they lost their childhood but there y’go: they made choices. What happened to them and what they have done is not on you. However they got here, they got here and they are HYDRA Nazis.” 

He sighed, “And the reports say they are dyed in the wool HYDRA: true believers. It’s not just disliking me; they are committed to killing all of the Avengers and all of HYDRA’s enemies.” 

“Killing Nazis is patriotic act,” Steve said.

Tony sighed, “Okay, okay, when you’re right you’re right. It’s sad that Stane’s actions led a chain reaction that made Nazis blame me for their being Nazis but they’re Nazis. We have a three-hour flight so I packed an inflight meal.” 

“Really?” asked Sharon.

“Well, no, I think Happy and Rhodey made this. But I carried it onto the Jet. Peggy I made the finger food for the kid’s tea. Priorities: the kids needed perfect little sandwiches and then perfect big sandwiches that mimicked the little ones so that Hulk could feel included. They needed scones. We just need fuel. It’s an early lunch.” 

There were leftovers from tons of takeout meals they had ordered in the last week. 

There were eating off plastic plates they usually used for Win’s playdates and picnics. They wouldn’t break if they hit turbulence. It made sense: they got attacked enough times to not want porcelain shrapnel flying at them. But, it struck Steve as bizarrely domestic and strangely banal. They were superheroes, in a jet going faster than Mach 2, eating a mix of Chinese, pizza, Mexican, fried chicken and Greek off of kids’ plates with an anthropomorphic car printed on them. 

“JARVIS,” said Steve, “not as ear shatteringly loud as he would like, but would you play Tony’s music, please? It’s been a while and he is the CO after all.” 

Tony grinned, “Thanks, Steve. Win got into the shower and overruled me on me on my music choice the other day. I had to listen to Owl City in my own damn shower.”

They ate as Tony briefed them on what to expect: kill HYDRA operatives; take out the Winter Soldiers; grab info; level the place. There was maybe a bolt-hole Bucky used eight months back about two hundred miles away. “Hopefully, home in time for scrambled eggs and a morning nap. But if the blot-hole leads to a step two we’ll tug on the string as long as it is safe to do so. We don’t rush in. We spook him, he runs, HYDRA gets a jump on us it all ends in tears. I know we want answers, we want HYDRA down, we want Bucky out but… Iron Man is — shockingly, against all the fucking odds — known very specifically for looking before he leaps.” 

“Is that so shocking?” asked Steve.

Tony smiled, “Really? You read that one fake dossier ‘Tasha wrote, accepted that it was a lie and then never Googled me?” Steve nodded his head. “People on the internet argue over how many yachts I have totaled. I don’t know the answer. At least seven. But I’ve also lost a few. I bought them, I drove them, I no longer know where they are. Drugs and alcohol were involved. I once got thrown out of my own birthday party. I bought three nightclubs to stop them from kicking me out. Tony Stark becomes the first modern superhero? Okay, maybe: he’s rich, arrogant, a thrill seeker and a showoff. But he often preaches taking a beat? Stop the fucking presses.” He shrugged. “Clint, you want me to take a turn at the wheel? You can take a nap. I don’t lose or total my vehicles anymore.”

“I’m good,” said Clint.

“If anyone wants a catnap, now’s the time, we ain’t getting any sleep tonight. I got a catnap when I stretched out to keep Win company while he took a nap earlier and then I slept for an hour and a half.” Sharon put her head on his shoulder, and he said, “Want the music turned off?” 

“Nah, sounds like my childhood,” she replied.

Natasha stretched out on Tony’s other side, and he smiled at Steve. After a little while, he quietly said, “Who woulda thunk this was gonna be a family affair? We’re gonna find him, Steve. Try and get a little rest a catnap. I’ll wake you in twenty.”

Then, he heard Tony say, “Okay, kids, sleeping more than 20 minutes makes you more tired.” He snapped his fingers, like he was entering his labs.

“We’re not your robots,” Steve said. 

“You’re right, you’re not my children,” agreed Tony. He tossed Steve a bottle of water. 

Steve saw that Tony had a hologram in front of him of Bucky’s arm. “Figuring out how to help him rebalance once it’s off. His spine has probably shifted. It’s too heavy; he’s lopsided,” the man explained.

“You keep coming back to that,” said Steve. “That it’s heavy and lopsided.”

Tony thought and said, “I love my bots. People who are rude to them get kicked out of my labs. People’ve tanked business deals by calling them dumb. So people ask me about their names: DUM-E, U and Butterfingers don’t sound nice. Butterfingers’ name was a sarcastic up yours to an asshole who said I wouldn’t be able to make a robot with his level of dexterity. Butterfingers has never dropped anything: never once in his whole life. Butterfingers held Win as a newborn. U was a mistake. I never, ever change programing if something isn’t broken. They are learning bots; they learn from every experience. You don’t erase a human’s memories; I don’t erase a bot’s. I didn’t realize that his name protocol was open, I called him over to me, said, ‘Hey, you, come here’ and I gave my baby a shitty name one and a half minutes after he was turned on.” He smiled and shrugged. “A simple fuck up.”

Steve didn’t know what Tony was talking about, but it was clearly important; he was sharing something personal. Tony took a breath, “DUM-E was different. DUM-E isn’t supposed to exist so he’s never had a name. DUM-E’s not a name at all. I was thirteen, entering a science fair that I was hoping would make me famous. I was going to prove you could make a true learning program. Not a thing that could mimic you, not a thing that could collect data and spew it back. A true learning program that could gather data and make logical choices. It was going to be groundbreaking. It was going to make me famous. So, I put the program into a dummy robot for proof of concept. Just an arm on wheels. No face, no personality, nothing special at all. It didn’t get a name, just a pun on the fact that it was a dummy body for a program. All it was going to do was learn to help me at a workbench. It would watch what I was doing and, without me following a plan, without me working on the same project twice, it would still hand me the correct tool. It could help strangers at their workbenches. It won me the science fair. It won me international science fairs. It won me every single computer programing prize there is. It won me a Turing Award — years before JARVIS would beat the Loebner Prize to a pulp. It got me on every magazine cover. It is what made me famous. I was busy after that; I hadn’t found time to take it apart. After a couple of months of contests, I fell asleep in the lab and I woke up when it bumped into me as it put a blanket over me. It bumped me because its arm was too heavy, and it was lopsided. And that action — putting a blanket over me while I was asleep — that was when ‘it’ became ‘he’ and he was never going to be taken apart. I never taught him anything about blankets he’s seen me drape them over myself when the lab was cold. But he had never touched one. I was unconscious. I wasn’t performing a task. And he decided to put a blanket over me completely of his own volition. Next morning, Mom comes down to the lab finds me surrounded by parts. She asked me if I was taking it apart and I told her he was a keeper but I was building him a new arm because his was too heavy and lopsided and it limited his mobility, range of motion and quality of life. My first significant creation was a lopsided, heavy arm. At thirteen I had more empathy and drive to fix it for a creation without nerve endings than HYDRA does for a human being. That arm hurts him all the time.” 

“DUM-E was specifically built to help you at the workbench?” asked Natasha. “He will barely stay at the workbench, let alone help.”

“He’s a learning bot and it’s been over thirty years,” said Tony. “He learned that food is helpful so he started making smoothies. He learned that laughter can make a lab more productive so he started doing funny things. He learned that exercise is good so sometimes he decides we have to play fetch. Win came along and dance parties became a thing. At some point he probably heard me say ‘Fuck work, we’re rich: I don’t want to do work today’ and took that to heart. And now he is the most useless workbench partner in the world. But, if someone falls asleep, he still, immediately goes for the blanket. But he doesn’t wake the person up anymore because his arm is the right weight and he’s balanced correctly. The world’s first true learning program learned a sweet personality, genuine emotions and forgot how to actually be useful. U and Butterfingers are helpful. They are ten and sixteen years younger. Give it another decade and I’m screwed for help. I’m just going to have three dumbass, very smart buddies. Butterfingers will learn to drop things and I will be fucked.” 

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking,” said Clint, “we are making our final descent, it’s a balmy sixteen degrees outside. We are coming in invisible and close the entrance.” 

“J, scan it,” said Tony.

“No signs of life. Power draw is lower than usual but… strangely lower… go in with caution. The building is colder than usual. It has been since yesterday.” 

They touched down silently. “Step lightly, kill stuff and watch each other’s back’s ‘kay? How many halls, J?”

“At the entrance there are three halls, one leads to the main body of the building, one to the barracks the other to the mess and gym.” 

“Competent ladies, please take the secondary halls by yourselves. The three of us will deal with the main bit. Stay on coms?” They all nodded. They went into the building, where they immediately saw bodies. Quietly he said, “J, now that we’re in here can you scan for life?” 

“There are none,” said JARVIS.

“None that you can see or none at all?” asked Tony.

“There are none at all,” said JARVIS.

“Hidden walls? Blind spots that you’re confused about?”

“None, Sir. I see everything. There’s no one alive.”

“Okay, everyone together,” said Tony. They went toward the room that had to be where the freezers were based on power maps. Bodies were everywhere. The doors were closed, heat on, the bodies weren’t ripe yet. Maybe two days dead at most. “What the fuck happened?” Tony asked softly.

They reached the freezer room, and everyone breathed out and just stared, “Jesus Christ,” said Clint.

The halls had been bloody. This was clean. The machines were unplugged, the glass was smashed and the Winter Soldiers were dead. Throats slit while they were still frozen. It was neat and dispassionate. Removing a threat and nothing more. The wall was a whiteboard, clearly meant to be used for a schedule. There was a message scrawled on it. It obviously wasn’t part of a professional plan. Tony said, “That looks like Russian. Is that Russian ‘Tasha?”

“‘I will not comply; I am not your asset; I will burn your empire to the ground; fuck HYDRA,’” Natasha read.

“One person did this? We have a buddy? Yay. Love it when we’ve got a buddy,” Tony sounded happy through the suit’s speakers. “Gotta be security footage.” 

“There is what could be a tech room eight doors down, also a good spot to download all their information,” suggested JARVIS.

They followed his directions, and Tony pulled up the footage. They watched. Bucky moved, stomping, murderous. He killed his way through. It made Steve feel ill. Tony turned Steve toward him and opened his visor. “Imma be crass because crass cuts through horror better than niceties. So, buckle up. It’s true that he looks deeply unhinged but who wouldn’t be, Steve? I mean, c’mon. And the fact that he’s angry is a much, much better sign than if he were just empty. Anger is significantly better than a shell. We can help angry; can’t fix it if they had melon-balled his melon. I was really worried that they had melon-balled him and I was gonna have to tell you that there was absolutely nothing left to save. And I don’t know how much of your friend is in there but a human being is inside that body. I don’t know if he’s Bucky, but he’s a person — not just the Hydra creature. That’s a man.” 

Steve nodded, “Thanks for the crassness.” 

“Better than sugarcoating?” Steve nodded. “Good,” Tony said. “Downloading their data is gonna take some time. We gotta place some explosives. It seems a shame to erase his beautiful rebellious message but there is a lot of useful tech here so we need to level it.” 

Steve looked at the whiteboard. “That’s bolted to the wall. We could get it off. Maybe leave it on top of the ruble?” 

Tony nodded, “Yeah, okay. Team, go do explosives, Steve and I will get that thing off the wall, once J is done with the info we’ll blow this place up and put the white board in a prominent position. Do we have any hairspray, setting spray, sprayable glue?” 

Clint pulled out a canister. “Hairspray is a flamethrower in a pinch.” He tossed it to Tony.

“It’s also a way to make sure that message stays in place in case it rains before HYDRA comes home,” said Tony. “Everyone go do their jobs. I would like to be wheels up as soon as possible, the less hanging around the better.” 

People left, and he and Tony went back to the creepy freezers. “Thank you for this, Tony, I know it’s not part of the mission,” Steve said as Tony sprayed the board with the hairspray. 

“Guy singlehandedly took out fifty HYDRA and five Winter Soldiers and left this message. He gets to share his message. We can do that for him. I thought we’d be killing our way in for hours. You don’t have to thank me for showing basic decency,” said Tony. He opened compartments on his suit and pulled out screwdrivers, handing one to Steve. The thing had been on the wall for decades and was rusted in, but they got it off after a few minutes. 

It was probably just politeness that made it so that JARVIS waited until after it was off the wall to say the data download was complete. He had probably been done with it for ages and waited. They went back and got the drive, using the coms to tell the others they there ready to move out. 

Clint said, “Fly up, blow it up, come back down and place the sign. It will do an implosion. This is by far the safest choice.”

“When it comes to shit blowing up,” said Tony. “I trust you.” 

It left a pretty flat ground, no big boom. They weren’t aiming for statements, just trying to wipe things out. None of their work had been meant to piss off HYDRA; just take it out. They landed again and put the sign on top of what had been the entrance. “Hydra is going to think Barnes is really handling things,” said Natasha, making Steve laugh. 

“Let’s go see if we found a bolt-hole,” said Tony, “maybe we’ll hit pay dirt, knock on the door and find him eating fig newtons and watching Jaws in his jammies.”

In the Iron Jet, the trip was a matter of minutes, and they were landing on a roof. “Third floor, low profile. Could be other squatters,” said Tony, Iron Man armor folding itself away. They went down, meeting no one. Breaking in was shamefully easy. The apartment had no furniture, no food. JARVIS had said he might have lived there eight months ago. There were blankets in the corner, a sad little nest. 

“Sir, the floorboards in the west corner, by the window, eight boards in,” said JARVIS.

Tony went and knelt, feeling around. He lifted two up and said, “Hey, jackpot.” He lifted out a backpack. Opening it, he pulled out notebooks, marked with different colored Post-its. He opened it and started reading, flicking about. After a few moments, he said, “Okay. Okay. maybe he’s in the fight, maybe not. But, we’re definitely on a rescue mission. Maybe, maybe he just wrote big angry words back there and he is actually out of this fight… Maybe if we say he can rest... Actual detective, agent people, check for signs of life, please?” They moved to do things.

Steve didn’t. “Tony, is it a torture list? Why do you think he’s out?”

“I need more time but, he’s color coded his memories because he’s trying to figure out who he was. But he’s also got lists of emotions, trying to figure out how to feel things. He made lists to categorize them to make sure he understands them and distinguish them. He has lists of people being kind to him… it’s just a list of people not being cruel. He’s got a list of things that felt good… solid food. Solid food is on the list of things that feel good. Solid food is notable enough to make it onto a list of good things. Would you think — would anyone think — of putting solid food on a list of good things? If we say to this guy, ‘Hey, want an arm that doesn’t hurt, nice food, a comfortable bed, mental health care, to be treated with dignity and a break?’ he might want to turn his back on this fight. I don’t know if your friend is ever going to be who he was but there is someone we can help. We can provide daily solid food at the very, very least. We have food.” 

“Apple sauce, nasal cannula or TPN?” asked Steve. They were words he had learned in the future. He had never thought they could apply to his friend.

“He doesn’t say,” said Tony. He looked back at the list. “JARVIS said he doesn’t go back to his safe houses if he even gets a whiff of them being compromised. We’ll keep these books to make sure he gets them back when we save him. He probably has a set at all his safe houses. We’ll make sure he gets at least one set.” 

The others came back. 

“He hasn’t been here in eight months,” said Sharon, “dust is too thick. He has a pattern of waking up for a couple of days or hours during missions, getting recaptured after going foggy. His handler found him every time. But he’s been out for two and a half months. He never came back after the time he got recaptured eight months ago. Might have forgotten this one.”

Nodding, Tony said, “We should go. Don’t want to bring HYDRA down on an innocent town. We’ve got his books: we have confirmation that he is adjacent to sane and we know he’s savable. He’s not a husk. It’s not a great day but it’s a good one.” Getting on the Iron Jet, he said, “J, anything else to hit?”

“He might… I’m researching something now. There might be something in America, maybe, but I need more time but — maybe as soon as tomorrow — I may have a new lead.” 

“Damn, babe, keep working. Is Dr. Helen Cho working on project, ‘Get that fuck monstrosity off without causing more damage’?”

“She broke the code and is ready when you are. She can transport wherever, and she can do it awake or asleep the cradle can do it painlessly. It depends on what he would prefer. He may wish not to experience his arm being removed; he may not trust us to be unconscious.” 

“If we can find him, I want her ready on a second’s notice, okay? If we have to bring him, arm and all, into the Tower… I mean, okay, whatever, it was a moral stand when I thought he killed my mom. But this poor bastard didn’t do shit. So, I mean, maybe he wants it off before he goes to a second location. Maybe he doesn’t want it in the Tower, but we’re gonna do whatever he wants. He needs autonomy.” 

As they flew, Clint said, “Sorry about the Thunder Teddy incident.” Steve had no idea what that meant or if it was code.

Tony waved him off, “Man, don’t mention it. Sorry Win freaked. I told him off.” 

“I spoke to Lila about it,” Clint continued.

“She wasn’t the one out of line. It’s not a big deal at all,” replied Tony. “The Thunder Teddy was in the playroom and she played with him. She had every right to do so. He is a toy. She wasn’t doing anything unkind, underhanded, malicious or off-limits. She had no idea she was going to throw off bedtime. Just because he’s an only child who needs his Avenger Teds to go to sleep doesn’t mean she can’t play with them. It’s totally fine, Clint, honestly. She was told to make herself at home. If I were you I would have been asking why she hadn’t gone for the Hawk Teddy. But don’t sweat it.” 

“Well, you know what they say about guests and fish,” said Clint. “As soon as the farm is safe-”

Tony cut him off, “As soon as the farm is safe, your family will still be welcome at Edwin Tower. It is as much their home as yours. They will always be welcome. A little kerfuffle over a stuffed animal isn’t going to change that. They shouldn’t feel like they need to walk on eggshells. Just because Win is used to people never touching his stuff doesn’t mean Lila did anything wrong. And he meant it when he apologized. He was tired; it was a standard up-too-late meltdown. He shouldn’t have shouted at her. He was an asshole and out of line. She was the victim. Relax. Is Laura worried or something?” 

“Well,” Clint sighed, “she doesn’t know you. You have a very big personality on TV and scream at people on the internet who are mean to Win.” 

“Yes,” Tony nodded, “And if an adult stole the Thunder Teddy at the park and tried to eBay it off for a grand because it was Edwin Stark’s, Iron Man would turn up at the fucker’s door. But a little girl taking a cute teddy bear to cuddle doesn’t make me bat an eye. Dude, c’mon.” 

“I know, that’s what I said but I promised my pregnant wife I would apologize,” Clint admitted.

“Tell her not to worry and ask Lila to sleep with any cuddly toys other than the Avenger Teds. She can play with them during the day, he just needs them to sleep. How is Cooper doing? I know he’s a little bored. He’s a little old.”

“The fun has definitely worn off the playdate from the age gap but he loves JARVIS’ tech. Laura and I feel like we can’t really tell him off about screen time when HYDRA may or may not know our address and we are trying to pretend things are normal.” 

“Once everything is done, the farm won’t look any different, JARVIS and the Iron Legion will be completely imperceptible. Your lives will be unaffected but they will be on it in less than a second if anyone comes near the perimeter.”

“That farm has been in Laura’s family for five generations,” said Clint.

Tony nodded, “We’ll make it safe for your family to go home. Kids will be playing catch in the back forty in a few weeks. If you want them to go home, but they can be here on weekends, or just here when the baby comes so Laura’s not alone with a newborn except on weekends. I mean, are you really gonna be with us while your wife is at home with the baby? C’mon.”

Clint shrugged, “Look, I’ve had four conversations about a teddy bear dressed like Thor. Seven about the merits of Nathaniel verses Nathan verses Nate. Twenty about whether or not the farm is going to feel weird. I can’t face a ‘should we move’ conversation. I just can’t.”

“Want me to do it?” asked Natasha.

“That feels cowardly,” said Clint. “Yes please.”

Tony opened one of the notebooks and started to read, “Isn’t that invasive?” asked Steve.

“Extremely,” agreed Tony. “But JARVIS’ lead might not lead anywhere, and I’ll take any help we can get. And I’ll take any cues I can to calibrate BARF. I want to avoid triggers. So, yeah, it’s fucked up that I’m reading it but I’m not doing it for the fun of it or the freak factor.” Steve reached for one, but Tony gently caught his hand. “No, no. I’m going to be helping him in a professional capacity. He may not know you. But you know him. It’s personal. Me reading it is invasive; you reading it is… unseemly. Don’t. I’ll tell you if you need to know. Okay?” 

Steve considered his words and slowly pulled his hand back, nodding. He wanted to read it, wanted to be prepared to help Bucky, but Tony was right. Bucky hadn’t given him permission, and it wasn’t his place to read it if Bucky didn’t want him to know. 

Tony took notes on his phone constantly, reading, flicking back and forth. After an hour and a half, he said, “Did you ever vomit on the Cyclone at Coney Island and then spend the train money on hot dogs so you needed to catch a ride home in a freezer truck?” 

“Yes, yes, that happened,” said Steve feeling hope. “He remembers that?” 

“Well, he did when he wrote this: eight months and however many memory wipes ago. Not your name. He’s categorized it under funny and anger.” 

“Anger?” asked Steve.

“You spent the train money,” said Tony.

“It wasn’t the first time we had to thumb a ride and he spent three bucks trying to win a girl he called Dot a teddy bear,” Steve said with a smile.

“Well, he doesn’t remember his money squandering, just yours,” Tony smiled. He read more, face going gray, working, serious, taking notes. “J, the smallest executive suite would be best. The bigger ones would scare him. If he wants his own living space once he’s healed, maybe we’ll gut the floor, buy it off the company and make it his, but right now, the two bedroom suite is going to be overwhelming enough without the giant ones scaring the shit out of him. Install an additional high-quality slide bolt lock, swing bar lock and a sturdy security chain on the front door so he can sleep better. He’ll probably barricade it as well, but it might help him, having the three extra locks he controls. Have the bots clean it. Stock the kitchen with some homey, simple nonperishables. Don’t do too many options. Just two cereals, two jams. We don’t want to overwhelm him with too many choices. We’ll worry about milk when we find him. Get full-sized shampoo and shit, none of the little hotel shit that’s in there now. He’s gotta feel safe and like it’s a little permanent. Order a nice bathrobe. Swap the leather couch for the corduroy one across the hall. Is there any other leather?” 

“There are two leather armchairs, Sir.”

“Swap them out. Any glass or steel tables swap them for wood. Anything sleek and modern and my style. Swap it. Buy it at Bob’s Discount Furniture if you have to. We might not have it in the building. We are going for welcoming and cozy and normal people. I want it nice, not down at heel, I want it good, I want him happy and warm but I don’t want him to feel like he’s been dropped into a) somewhere professional or b) somewhere foreign. I don’t want hotel I want house.”

“Of course, Sir,” agreed JARVIS. “I believe we have some things in the storage that may fit the bill… also IKEA. IKEA would be the right feel.”

“Great, flannel sheets, please. And it doesn’t matter if doesn’t quite mesh, we’re not going for Better Homes and Gardens. It’s almost better if it’s not perfect. It shouldn’t be too polished, too polished might spook him. He needs nice and safe. He needs it to be not medical; not clinical; not professional.” 

He read more, and then he lunged. He grabbed an air sickness bag and vomited impressively, aiming away from the books, face buried in the bag. He folded it with complete aplomb, as though nothing had happened. Steve reached for the bag. Years on the battlefield had hardened him to any squeamishness he might have once had to body fluids. There was a hatch for clothes covered in dangerous substances — too ruined to be salvaged — that led directly to an onboard incinerator garbage disposal unit. He dropped it down.

“Those bags were a joke,” Tony said.

“Not so much,” said Sharon.

Steve read what Tony wrote upside down. He knew he shouldn’t, but he did. “Muzzle night terrors/strangulation/garroting top priority. Collarless shirts, no scarves, low profile jacket collars; figure out winter warming tech, hats with backs? Comfy hoodies (no cords, w/extra pockets)?” 

They flew in silence with no more incidence. “Never thought this would be a bad thing,” said Clint. “But our children as still awake.”

“Shit, shit, shit,” said Tony.

“If I do a leisurely tour of the U.S., we can look around for an hour, see your house in Malibu from above, they’ll be down for the night,” offered Clint. 

“That’s the coward’s way out,” said Tony.

“We could get dinner at El Zarape,” said Sharon.

“I’m buying,” he replied.

“Awesome, I’ve heard about that place,” said Steve, smiling at him gently and squeezing his knee. “Tony, thank you. This man might not be my friend. He might not be Bucky at all. But I still really appreciate what you’re doing for a soldier from my war. Thank you for pouring yourself into this. And I know that this is an Iron Man Joint costarring the Avengers, but however we can help. If it’s moving furniture, bouncing ideas around with BARF, just listening, drinking alcohol on your behalf, whatever you need. Okay?”

“Thanks, Steve,” said Tony. “Really.” 

Natasha said, “Share and I have clothes at the Malibu house. Clint, Tony’s got stuff you can wear. Steve… Tony must have some sweats.” 

“I do,” agreed Tony.

“I brought a go-bag,” said Steve. “I actually came prepared.”

“Well, good for you,” scoffed Clint. “I brought underwear and a can-do spirit.”

They flew above Tony’s house. It was huge, it was beautiful. It fit Tony even more than the Tower. 

Steve had never really become accustomed to the Tower. It still looked wrong on the skyline. But this fit into the cliff. It looked almost like a Frank Lloyd Wright. And it took Steve’s breath away. “Tony, your house is exquisite. My God, the way it undulates with the landscape. It’s gorgeous. Did you design it? No wonder Win hated the mansion. To give up living here would be tortuous. This is paradise.”

Tony laughed, “You’re just being nice because you think the Tower is an assault to taste.”

“No, Tony, that is beautiful,” said Steve.

“Well, be it ever so humble, it’s home,” Tony. He sighed as they landed. “It’s more home than the Tower. That I built for Win; it’s good for schools and his social life. This is mine.”

They walked inside, and it was even more glass than the tower. Steve had taken an architecture class. “Is this a John Lautner?” asked Steve, looking around. 

Tony gave him a wan smile. “He consulted on it. I had five architects working off drawing my drunk- grieving-ass drew. They made me this place after Mom and Dad… Once Mr. Jarvis was gone, I had this place ready to go. It won awards. They called the design ‘Stark Modernism’ Edwin Tower is classified as the same but is said to be more refined… I wasn’t high on cocaine when I sketch out his tower so… refined is one word for it, less manic is another way to put it. Make yourselves at home. Grab a drink from the bar if you want. Find a place to change. I’m going to brush my teeth.”

Steve went toward the bedrooms. He saw a nursery, toys clearly missing from shelves, brought to the Tower. It did have streaky paint. It made his heartache. This was where Tony’s family had started. There were just as many huge pictures of the Starks here as there were in the Tower. 

Steve found a bedroom to change in; he saw Rhodey’s cologne on the nightstand and a pair of swim trunks on the chair in the corner. He went back to the living and heard a blender going.

“Virgin mango margarita?” offered Sharon. Steve raised an eyebrow. Softly she said, “JARVIS can tell Tony I’ve broken out the blender and am making cocktails and he doesn’t need to rush. Blended drinks lend themselves to a slow drink. Give him a minute to vomit and cry. I’m not sure where Tony keeps the tequila and I don’t think anyone should really start drinking. So, salted rim?” 

“Yes please,” he said, sitting at the bar. “I’ve been watching that Jetson’s cartoon. It’s fun. Sometimes, after my run, Tony and Win aren’t awake yet so I do cereal and old cartoons that aren’t old to me, this feels like that. It’s beautiful here.” She poured him a glass, and he thanked her with a cheers motion.

“Yeah, Tony’s slice of heaven,” she agreed. “It almost killed him to move back to New York… New York has better schools. Peggy was getting too old to fly everywhere. Stark Industry was looking to expand their eastern business model. But Malibu… JARVIS wasn’t fully functional until this house. He could think and talk but he could do anything yet. He can’t even control the lights or phones in the mansion. This house… he got his body. He could finally touch the world here. Win, Butterfingers and U were born in this house. He went to therapy in this house, he stopped being an alcoholic in this house. The Tower is great but… You will pry this house from his cold dead hands. This is home for Tony. Four out of his five kids were born here. And you heard him: he had no idea he was becoming a father when DUM-E was created when he was thirteen.”

Clint came and said, “Are we drinking?” 

“Virgin mango margarita?” she offered.

“What’s the difference between that and a daiquiri?” he asked.

“When it’s virgin I don’t think there is one,” said Tony coming. He looked patchy, face washed. “Where is ‘Tasha?” 

Sharon shrugged and got more glasses, “Salt?” 

People accepted drinks, and Natasha came in saying, “I cannot find my Keds, I’m wearing Pepper's because I’m not wearing Op boots to El Zarape. But, hers already have sand in them so I don’t think she’ll be pissed.” 

They had their drinks and went to the “garage.” A beautiful white-tiled room filled with cars, “Couldn’t bring ‘em to New York,” said Tony. “No point with the traffic and the shitty weather. Better to have them here for the weekends. I didn’t spend years rebuilding these beautiful things just to have some asshole hit them on the street or have the salted roads eat them in the winter.” 

Looking around, he said, “I don’t have a car that fits five grown-ups so it’s the Mustang and someone sitting on top of the back seat. Let me get Win’s booster out; it’s his favorite.”

“I’ll drive,” said Clint.

“You will not,” said Tony. “If anyone is going to drive one of my beloved cars with an illegal seating arrangement it’s me.”

Steve saw no problem with that. He didn’t mind sitting on the lip of the car’s backseat, wind in his hair, between the ladies. It felt freeing. He didn’t really need a seat or a belt. It was liberating, and Tony wasn’t going fast. He heard the siren just before they got pulled over. 

The officer walked up and said, “Do you know why I pulled you over?”

“I think nowadays it might be illegal for me not to have a seatbelt and sit like this,” said Steve, answering for Tony, smiling the Captain America smile. It was a manipulation that the public didn’t think he was capable of. “I’m sorry, Officer. I usda do it all the time back in the army,” he thickened his old accent just a little.

The man said, “You’re the Avengers.”

“I don’t have a car that fits us,” said Tony, his own patented smile in place.

“Where are you going?” asked the cop.

“El Zarape and back. Cap and Hawkeye have never had the fish tacos.”

“I’ve never been to California before. It’s beautiful here,” said Steve.

“Tell you what, let you off with a warning for a picture,” said the guy.

“Fair deal,” said Tony. “Y’want my cousin in it too?”

“I can take the photo,” Sharon offered. 

But Clint said, “There’s a damn good chance she’s gonna be an Avenger someday so you may be getting the first shot of a future Avenger.” 

The guy smiled, “We gotta get everyone in.” 

They all smashed together for the photo.

As they pulled away, Tony said, “Steve, I could kiss you.”

“Please don’t.” Steve pushed himself back up onto his position on the lip of the roof of the car. “When I tried to kiss you Hulk almost separated my head from my body.” 

“Wait, what?” asked Clint.

Sharon laughed, “Wow, for someone called Hawkeye, damn, man. That’s visible from space.”

“Seriously?” asked Clint.

“Anytime Win isn’t in the room, Bruce refers to Tony as ‘beautiful’ and Tony replies with ‘handsome,’” said Sharon.

“I thought that was a joke,” said Clint.

“C’mon, for once in my life, I am keeping my private life private,” said Tony. “And until he gets his blood work sorted out… It’s cuddling and longing looks.” 

“Yeah, and when I made a made a miscalculation it was almost a very pointless ice trip,” Steve laughed.

“Wait, Tony was a possibility? I knew about Tony and Bruce, but I didn’t know about you and Tony. Then what about Sam?” said Natasha. “He’s nice.” 

“He’s just a friend,” said Steve. “A really amazing friend. Nothing else. Please stop trying to set me up. I’m not there yet.”

“But you were there for Tony?” she responded, stressing Tony’s name.

“Hey,” protested the man in question.

“I was in a weird headspace,” said Steve. “It was a weird day. But, my doctor says I should be okay with me before I try to be okay with anyone else. It’s a new millennium and I’m the same me so I need to figure out how to reconcile that because whoever I date… it’s all cradle robbing on the same scale as Hugh Hefner.”

“Hugh Hefner’s girlfriends are twenty years younger than me,” said Tony.

Steve shuddered, “That is repugnant.” 

They fell to silence for a couple of minutes, and then Sharon laughed. “I like that you amped that guy up about me being in the picture.” She was unaware of the conversations that were happening. Hulk liked that she came into the playroom and sat cross-legged to read quietly and patiently to the kids. Others liked her cool head.

They got to El Zarape, and Steve said, “So what’s good?” 

“Everything,” said Tony, Natasha and Sharon in unintentional perfect unison. 

“Seriously,” said Tony, “Everything is good. And we each need our own order of chips because I don’t share with anyone who isn’t my kid.” They went in, and looking at the board, he said, “Steve, fish tacos, carne asada and street tacos are really only available in America in southern California. You won’t find them in New York. But, no matter what you order, you will not be disappointed.” 

At the counter, Tony, Sharon and Natasha were greeted like family. The staff asked after Win. They laughed and said how excited Tony must have been that he wouldn’t have to share his meal. “I get a whole order of chips and no one is going to eat half of my tacos. No one tells you what the small joys are going to be post fatherhood: more than five bites of my refried beans.”

“You want your usual?” 

“Yes, and I will be eating it myself,” he said. “I don’t need my usual extra taco, because Win’s not stealing half my meal.”

“How does he eat his whole meal and so much of everyone one else’s?” asked the girl behind the counter. 

“I have no idea,” said Tony. “None, I’ve tried to figure it out. I just can’t explain it.” 

Steve took a long time deliberating but ordered what he wanted, and they were told they would be called in when their order was ready. They ate freshly fried chips and tasty salsa and guacamole at picnic benches right next to the beach. Outside JARVIS spoke through Tony’s phone. “Sir, would you be able to say goodnight?” 

Tony sighed, “Yeah, J.” He held up the phone and smiled as a projection of Win popped up, “Hi, baby.”

“Hi, Daddy. Where are you? That looks like home.” 

“It does, doesn’t it? I am somewhere nice and safe and I will be home in the morning when you wake up. Mission’s over for the day and we will be heading back after we eat something.” 

“Really? You said less than two days but this is way less than two days.” 

“Well, I overestimated, plan for the worst but hope for the best.” He smiled. “You all tucked in?” 

“Yeah, with Uncle Rhodey,” Rhodey leaned into the picture.

“Oh, well, if Uncle Rhodey’s there, I better do all three of our poems,” he said the bedtime poems and said, “I love you, baby, go to sleep. I will see you in the morning. Sleep well.”

“Night night, daddy.”

“Night night, baby.”

The video didn’t disconnect because Rhodey was holding up a finger. Instead, it followed him out of the room, and he said, “Where are you? You are supposed to be somewhere snowy.” 

“Malibu. Win’s right, it does look like home. Mission went very well. Also really sad, couldn’t come home while he was awake, needed to not put on a brave face. We’re all fine, all sad. We’re getting dinner at El Zarape because Steve and Clint have never been and Share suggested it. We’re eating El Zarape and then coming home. We’ll see you in a bit.” 

Rhodey nodded. “Eat some of their divine chips for me.”

“Already on it,” Tony toasted him with a ship he’s been holding out of frame. They disconnected.

“This place is incredible,” said Clint.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, “At low tide you can run here from the beach at my house. High tide my beach is cut off by the cliffs so you have to time it. But, I frequently put Win in the jogging stroller and do it for dinner. But he’s getting to big to fit in the jogging stroller. A six-mile round trip is too far for him.” 

There was no place with a roof, and Steve said, “What do they do when it rains?” 

“The thirty-six times a year when it rains you have to take it home,” said Tony.

“It’s always sunny?” Steve asked, shocked. It was like living in a dome.

“No,” Tony shook his head, “sometimes it’s overcast.”

“It genuinely is paradise,” said Steve. 

They ate as the sun set, and Tony yawned, “My body has no idea what time it is but God I want my bed.” 

“This food is so good. And it’s just here,” said Steve. “You jog here? How the hell did you move away?” 

“Well, I didn’t sell my house, did I? I didn’t even move my whole wardrobe,” he gestured at his clothes. “Just ‘cause ‘Tasha couldn’t find her shoes doesn’t mean she doesn’t have shoes here. I left all of my furniture. I vomited on a plane and needed to cry in my bedroom without my kid seeing me and eat comfort food so we came here instead of going to New York: I only kinda moved, Steve.”

“Tony, dessert,” called a guy from the door because they had ordered seconds. 

He went to the man and came back with handfuls of what looked like long fried sticks. Handing off one to each of them, he said, “For once, I didn’t have Win sneaking extra hot sauce on when I’m not looking. I love my kid but, Jesus.” 

“I like how spicy he likes things,” said Clint. “It’s nice to have someone who doesn’t pussy out other than just Nat.”

“I like spice but he drowns flavor,” Tony replied, taking a bite of his stick. Steve took a bite of his and moaned. “Congrats, Steve, you just lost your churro virginity. It’s possible nothing will ever beat that feeling so savor it. A lot of actual sex isn’t as good as a well-made churro.” 

“I thought it was absurd that it was two feet long. Now it seems like it’s the right length.” 

“Amazing, right? Gotta come right out of the fryer,” said Tony. “That view and a churro. Clint, thanks for suggesting we not go home. Share, thanks for suggesting dinner.” Everyone finished. “Tower?” 

“Yeah,” agreed Natasha, “If you’re ready.”

“Ready,” agreed Tony. “You better put Pepper’s shoes back. She won’t mind that you borrowed them. But she might mind if you bring them to the wrong coast.” They threw their trash into the can, and Tony leaned into the shack, “Awesome as always. Please don’t tell Win we were here. He’ll act like it was the greatest injustice since me not let him go to the Taylor Swift concert last year. I had to hear about that one for a month.” 

His words were met with laughter and salutes. They drove back to the house. Sitting on the ledge of the car was even better in the dark. Steve could look up at the dark sky and out at the dark sea. It was poetry. 

They cruised back to the house, and Steve said, “Thank you for showing me your gorgeous home, Tony, it’s magnificent.”

“Any time you need a weekend break, man, it’s here. El Zarape is a straight shot down the breach, just ask J about the tides otherwise you’re in for a pretty brutal, dangerous swim around the cliff. I’ve done it but it sucks. Haven’t done it since I’ve had a kid and my universe under someone else’s skin. It’s way too dicey once you’re not allowed to die.”

“You were never allowed to die,” said Sharon.

“You could have gotten over it,” he replied. 

They got back into the Jet, and Tony reached for a book, but Natasha reached for his hand, “Do you have enough stuff to start recalibrating BARF tonight for an hour until you go to bed? Because if you do, why don’t you wait until the morning to read more? Why don’t you give yourself a break? Tell Pep you need to work on some HYDRA bullshit for a Wounded Warrior. She’ll be okay with you taking work hours to do this. Win has been spending two full days a week at daycare now that they have instituted Spanish Days. Tomorrow is a Spanish day, he’ll be in class all day. You can read and vomit all day. Take this time off. Just relax. You’re the CO and we need you in top form. Top form means taking breaks. You’ve never done this with a team before. You push and push and push. Take a break, for my sake.”

“He might not go to Spanish Days, he’s been having too much fun with Lila, couldn’t get him to go last week,” said Tony.

“What’s Spanish Days?” asked Steve.

“Daycare teachers have decided two days a week are taught completely in English and two are taught entirely in Spanish and the others are in whatever you want to speak because they are fluent in both,” Tony shrugged. “We promise that kids will leave able to read, add and subtract. And kids could but the kids who could speak Spanish were leaving able to read in Spanish not necessarily in English and vice versa so the teachers have instituted a change as of two months ago. So far, parents are liking it, kids are liking it. Before it was just ‘Speak whatever you like all the time.’ So, this also makes it so that all the kids talk to each other more too, because the kids ask each other ‘how do I say?’ a lot. I’ve been making sure Win went on Spanish Days but with the Barton kids coming it’s now a fun prolonged playdate and I can’t really force him into class when he knows there is something so much better a few floors up: a one on one play date with Lila who likes princesses and climbing frames as much as him. A kid who likes dress up and games where broken bones are highly probable? Hell, yeah. Hard combination to find. Tiaras followed by death race on tricycles.”

“The tooth fairy is almost definitely making a visit to someone by the end of this,” agreed Clint. “The height the three kids can get on that trampoline is terrifying.”

Tony nodded, “Yeah, it’s fun.” 

“Well, JARVIS can have those of us without real jobs intercept him if need be,” said Natasha. “Steve can let Win and Lila fuck up some prints for that class he doesn’t like but wants an A in; I’ll do some ballet; Share will bake. We will cover. You focus on what you’ve got to do. But, give yourself the night. We know he was in America when SHIELD fell two months, we know he was in Siberia two days ago we will find him. He’s alive, he is out. We will find him. He’s taken out their top five weapons. This man is going to be okay. You’ll save him.”

He nodded again. They landed at the Tower, and Clint said, “All ashore.” 

JARVIS said, “While the family would enjoy your company, Directors Coulson and Sousa would like a debrief on his floor.” 

“I would say no rest for the wicked, but we just ate El Zarape,” said Tony. He carried the backpack of books and drive out with him, shoulders squared. 

On the man’s floor, Phil said, “What happened?”

“We walked into a post bloodbath,” said Tony. “Everyone was dead. Courtesy of James Buchanan Barnes.” He hooked up the security camera footage and showed them. “The five winter soldiers were very much dead,” he said as JARVIS cut to that room.

“JARVIS, would you please zoom in on that board if possible?” asked Peggy.

It was still blurry, but Natasha said, “It says, ‘I will not comply; I am not your asset; I will burn your empire to the ground; fuck HYDRA.’”

“Good for Bucky,” said Peggy.

“Peg,” Steve said, “That might not be Bucky.” 

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“We went to his safe house,” said Tony. “Found some journals. This guy has been trying to piece his brain together. He has no idea who he is. He has memories. But… he remembered going to Coney Island with a man who vomited on the Cyclone and made him laugh and spent the train money on hotdogs and pissed him off but he couldn’t remember Steve’s name. I don’t know if I can… BARF can help this man. I can help this man feel better, safer, I can make this man functional. But I don’t know if who he will be is who you knew seventy years ago. It’s been seventy years of sheer hell. And he didn’t get an ice trip or a Daniel. Peggy… the things in those journals. He has lived a life for seventy years and… if you had to make a list of good things. Not great things. Just good things. Like kittens, clean sheets, brown paper packages tied up with string. What’s the smallest good thing you can think of?” Then he shook his head. “No, don’t answer. Agent, how do we clear him? The SHIELD data dump says Winter Soldier is a real bad dude who shot JFK and murder my parents and a whole bunch of other folks. What do we have to do to say ‘Yes, but Winter Soldier and James Buchanan Barnes are not the same person.’? We have it all documented how they tortured and programmed him. If I document how BARF deprograms those words, is that good enough? This poor man cannot do one more second of time being punished for HYDRA’s crimes.” 

Phil nodded, “I’ll talk to the president, tell him that you say he’s cleared. He’s seen the footage of your parents. I’ll get it done.” 

“I haven’t seen the footage and I hope I never do,” said Tony. “But if I did I couldn’t hold it against him. This man did nothing to deserve being locked up. The Medal of Honor and all that, it should stand, the James Buchanan Barnes who was did everything he did. Then they made the Winter Solider and this poor man has been fighting for sanity and trying to claw his way out from under it every chance he got.”

“I’ll talk to the President,” Phil repeated. “You might need to change the name from Operation FML.”

“Right now it’s the perfect name it’s just that he and I are both saying it,” said Tony. 

“If you dip a clothes peg in paint you can make it into a little canvas and draw a little design on it with a pen,” said Peggy. Tony raised an eyebrow at her, but Steve saw what she meant. “You asked what the most banal good thing I could think of was: turning clothes pegs into little art projects.” 

Tony nodded, “I shouldn’t have brought it up, it was, forget it. I’m.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to,” he sighed. 

She nodded, “Okay. That’s fine.”

“I used to be good at handling these things,” he said. 

“No, darling, you never were. You used to be good at snorting cocaine, drinking a fifth of whisky, having sex with a stranger and creating a suite of technology that could launch missiles and simultaneously poach an egg, chill champagne and program a DVR. You are much, much better at handling these things now than you ever were back then because then you just handled them by blowing them up. Now, you are going to go work on BARF, cry in the shower like every other SHIELD Agent before you and get some sleep. Back then you didn’t accept that crying was a necessary part of handling it. Crying is a normal part of handling it.”

“I never wanted to work for SHIELD.”

“Yet here you are, leading her last mission,” she smiled.

“I feel that position is largely honorary.”

“Did you tell you people where to be and what to do when you were on the ground?” 

“Yeah, then I vomited on the plane and made everyone go to Malibu for dinner.”

“How a man handles the stress of command after the fact and how a man handles command in the moment are very different. You got one hundred and thirty-two HYDRA, Strucker, Loki’s scepter, two site’s worth of data and two locations off the map this week alone without any injuries to your people. You’ve been at it for just weeks. So, you vomited on a plane and wanted to go home. So what? We’ve all vomited on a plane and wanted to go home at some point. You never went through bootcamp. You did Afghanistan instead. You, Natasha and Clint get a pass on ‘is that a weird reaction?’ because of your training background. Now get off the mat, dust yourself off and go to bed. JARVIS can walk Phil and me through the rest of it, you and your team are exhausted.” 

He nodded. “Steve and I pried the note off the wall, left it on the rubble after spraying it to make the message permanent, HYDRA will think James Buchanan Barnes did it. He deserved the credit. He did the hard bit. I’m calling him his full name. He might not like ‘Bucky’ it seems unkind to call him a name he doesn’t like. He’s not their Asset, and he might not be Bucky. We could call something else.” 

“What about just calling him our friend?” suggested Steve.

Tony nodded, “That works. Yeah, that’s good. He is our friend. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

Peggy went to Tony and hugged him, “It’s going to be okay.” She kissed his cheek. “Give up for the evening.”

He nodded, “Okay, thank you for the pep talk.”

“Well, Phil’s not the only SHIELD Director in the room,” she reminded him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has a list of things he likes, which includes solid food. He also has problems with his muzzle. We don't know what they are, but we know that the muzzle is a form of torture.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another one with discussions of torture. I'm going to put them in the footnotes, just in case.

In the elevator, everyone peeled off at their own floors, saying their goodnights. When they were alone, JARVIS stopped the elevator and said, “Sir, the immediate family is on the first level of the penthouse, at the bar, they wished to give you space you desire to bypass them if-”

“I want my family. I want to see their faces.” 

The doors opened. And he almost ran to them, reaching Happy first, Tony pulled him in for a hug. “I love you guys and if I were tortured for seventy years, I would remember I loved you even if I didn’t remember your names.” 

“Of course you would, boss,” Happy hugged him back tightly. “Bad trip?” 

“Not allowed to talk about it, Top Secret, reporting to top brass. Eyes Only, no written record, loose lips,” he said.

“We get it,” said Rhodey. “You don’t have to say a word.”

He pulled away from Happy. “There were five Russian Winter Soldiers who volunteered. JARVIS tracked down where they were frozen, HYDRA base, tons of SHIELD data, and HYDRA research, and stolen STARK and SHIELD tech. We went to kill everyone. But everyone was already dead. Barnes is a good guy. He left them a message saying fuck you Imma kill you all for what you did to me. We blew it up, made sure to preserve his message. The poor bastard earned the recognition. So, we go to a second location we hope was his hideaway when he escaped shortly eight months back. And he had notebooks.” 

He held up the rucksack. “He’s trying to piece his mind back together between wipes. He has a list of people he remembers. Dad, Peg and Steve are all on there. But it’s just physical descriptions. No names, no emotions, no relationships, just physical descriptions. And there’s little snippets of memories. But things like Steve vomiting on the rollercoaster and it’s filed under funny. There’s Peg mending a uniform, so he didn’t get in trouble filed under kind. Not fond, not familial. There’s no depth to the emotion: it’s surface. With BARF, I can give this man his memories but I don’t know if I can give him his connections. He’s not insane. I can help him build a new life, a next life. But I don’t know if I can ever help him get that back. He hates that they called him Soldier and the Asset, but he feels no connection to Sargent James Buchanan Barnes. I just… and he’s trying to relearn emotions and… he’s made lists of things that made him feel stuff physical and emotional. Hurt: branding, cutting, whipping, electrocution, sand in his arm triggering constant pain in his nerves, waking up from cryo a year later and finding out that there is still sand in his arm. But, there’s some emotional stuff too… a lot of fear around his muzzle. But then… He tried to separate his emotions to help him recognize when he feels good, like, he could savor it more if he made note of it and… I get why Bruce likes clean running water. In Afghanistan, running water was a luxury. I get that. But solid food shouldn’t be on a list of luxuries.” 

Pepper raised a hand to her mouth. Tony took a ragged breath, “We are going to be rebuilding this man from the subbasement up — forget the fucking ground up — we don’t get the luxury of starting at ground level. The long list of fears about the muzzle is what had me puking on the plane. It was twenty pages long. Twenty pages of different reasons his muzzle was scary. His arm can come into the Tower. It killed Mom, but it’s attached to the body of HYDRA’s most brutalized victim. Whatever he needs, he gets. BARF needs to be fully recalibrated. Pep, I need shit taken off my plate.”

“Tony, consider your plate in the dishwasher,” she said. “Anyone askes, you’re doing pro bono for the Wounded Warrior Project and you don’t have time for anything else. I will funnel everything to Bruce and he can shunt everything he doesn’t want to everyone else. Hiring him was the best choice you ever made professionally.”

“No, that’s a three-way tie for you, Hap and the man I’m gonna marry,” he said. “I hired three of my family members I just didn’t know in two out of three times. I knew I was gonna marry him within twenty minutes of meeting him.” She put her hand on the bar and jumped over it. “Where the fuck did you learn that?” 

“Share and ‘Tasha teach me stuff,” she replied and pulled him into a hug. “You look like shit.”

“What time is it?”

“A little after ten but you’ve been all over the world,” said Rhodey.

“I could never forget you,” said Tony. “How the hell did he forget Steve?”

Rhodey shrugged, “Seventy years is an awfully long time.” 

“Then, I never want to forget this conversation where I promise never to forget you,” said Tony. “What if I forgot Win? The fuck would we do then?”

“By then, he would be a scientist, and he would fix it,” said Rhodey. “And not even HYDRA could force you to forget where your universe lives. They could not ever steal him from you. He would not allow it. He would stamp his foot until he got you back. What did you eat at El Zarape?” 

“The usual but without someone else sneaking extra hot sauce onto my plate and eating half of it. You should have seen Steve’s face at his first bite of churro. Steve liked the house, unlike the Tower. Clint was kinda pissed I wouldn’t let him drive the Mustang. He might be a better pilot, but he ain’t driving my car. ‘Tasha had to borrow Pep’s sandy Keds ’cause she couldn’t locate a pair of her own sneakers. Steve kinda looked like a kid realizing his teacher didn’t live at school. It really perplexed him that ‘Tasha could locate Pep’s sneakers when her own were missing. Like, no shit, she knows where Pep’s auxiliary bedroom is, and her own sneakers are probably in the beach hut, but Steve’s mind was blown.” 

“Did she wear my Keds here?” asked Pepper.

“No,” Tony shook his head, “They are at home, and they were already sandy. She swapped them for her boots, we’re good.”

“How did you fit in the Mustang with five adults?” asked Rhodey.

“Steve sat up on the back between the girls.”

“And you didn’t get pulled over?” he asked.

Tony shrugged, “We took a selfie with the cop so we didn’t get a ticket.” 

“Thank God, because you couldn’t have afforded that,” said Pepper sarcastically.

Tony laughed, “Steve laid on the ‘Gee whiz, I’m Captain America’ schtick real thick to make doubly sure we got out of it. It was hilarious. Steve loved the food. Clint loved the view. I needed to go home and not tuck Win because I couldn’t handle that. Hell, I don’t know how the fuck to handle breakfast. I’m gonna be boiling eggs and I’ll thinking about the fact that they’re solid food and I might just burst into tears. That is… the bar was on the ground and he dug under it.”

Rhodey came to him, the last to hug him, and said, “Imma sleep in your bed tonight and I will cook breakfast. You won’t be in charge of cooking for a while. He’s getting special breakfast. We’ve got you.” 

“You can’t actually sleep in Sir’s bed,” said JARVIS.

“Like hell I can’t,” said Rhodey.

“Well, you can, but Dr. Banner might be a bit confused by the sleepover as he is already reading, naked and waiting for Sir to come to bed.”

“Oh, naked cuddling with the man I can’t kiss because his stupid research hit a stupid set back and is still two stupid week away from working sounds stupid good.” 

“Wait,” Happy poured him a glass of water from the pitched on the bar, “Flight, Mexican food, crying and puking is a recipe for dehydration.” 

Pepper and Rhodey both chanted, “Chug, chug, chug,” at him.

He did, and as he finished, he said, “Once upon a time I was more fun to hang out with.”

Pepper shook her head, “No, once upon a time, you were paying two of us and Rhodey worried you would die if he walked away. I assure you: we like you more now. We want to hang out with you now. Go look at the hot naked man in your bed.” 

He carried the rucksack up the stairs with him and walked silently past Edwin’s room. He paused. “He’s fast asleep, if you want a peek,” said JARVIS. “His vital signs show there is no risk of waking him.” 

Cracking the door, Tony looked in. Edwin was star fished on the bed, Iron Teddy clutched in one hand, surrounded by the Avenger teds, dead asleep, safe, unaware of the horrors of the world. No harm had ever befallen him. A missed Taylor Swift concert, a misplaced teddy bear, a torn tutu were the most immense tragedies he had ever faced. Breathing out slowly, Tony shut the door.

He went to his own bedroom where the lights were slightly dimmed, and Bruce was reading by the bedside table lamp’s light. “You’re like a porno,” he said by way of greeting.

“Oh?” said Bruce, with a wry smile.

“Sexy professor type, cute curls, sexy glasses, reading a smart people book, naked under the covers, probably called me in after hours to tell me how I need extra credit to pass the course. Blow you I pass, deep throating’s a C. ‘But, Sir I need a B’ well that that’s a good fucking. Then I’m into it and I want the A, so that that’s a spanking and then I’ve been so good I get cuddled.”

“Spanking is first, Tony: you should have tried harder and you shouldn’t have been in my office in the first place. Pass is the blow job. C is deep throating. B is sex and A is when I finish on your face. Then I would cuddle you and write you a letter of recommendation.” 

Tony laughed, shocked at Bruce’s crass words; it was completely out of character. He could see Bruce spankings him, but he couldn’t actually see any roleplaying ever. Bruce would blush, stutter, giggle. “JARVIS told you it was a rough and you go for the laugh.” 

“Trying,” agreed Bruce with a laugh, blushing and looking away. “What happened, beautiful?”

“Everything is terrible, handsome. You’re going to need to run the physics department and I need help reconfiguring BARF. What level of government security clearance do you have?”

“The same as you specifically so I can help you with this.”

“This man is a mess.” Tony started stripping. “We’re not even calling him Barnes. He’s so scrambled we’re calling him our friend and he is our friend. And we’re not allowed to talk about it with anyone. And Phil, and maybe even the other Avengers would be pissed if we spoke about it outside of the group. So, I certainly didn’t just break down and tell my family everything. But, beautiful, beautiful man, can we not talk about it tonight? Can we talk about how fucking lucky I am to walk into my bedroom and see a naked Adonis in bed waiting? The sexiest man in the world, all pretty eyes and curls waiting for me? An amazing, kind, clever, sweet, gentle man waiting just to cuddle?”

“Yeah,” Bruce put his book and glasses aside, “we can talk about that. We could even not talk about that and skip right to the cuddling, and groping, and stroking and hating that my spit won’t let us kiss.” Bruce pulled the covers back, and Tony straddled his lap. “It’s good to have you home.” Bruce put his arms around Tony’s waist and drew him close. Tony rested his chin on the top of Bruce’s head.

“If I were to forget my life, my world, I would want to want to remember this feeling. It would be enough,” Tony caressed Bruce’s back. Bruce kissed along Tony’s chest, closed-mouthed, innocent. Tony stroked his hair. “How was work?” 

“Quiet, Win and Lila liked looking at toast under microscopes. Then they kept bringing things: shoes, lace. Win’s so used to look at samples that the idea of just looking at stuff at never occurred to him. The whole lab was actually really into it. One of the most expensive microscopes in the world and we put matchbox cars in it. Then Cooper, who has been kind of jaded brought in his baseball mitt. He was horrified by how much bacteria was on it. It’s under a clean light now.” Tony laughed. “Everything was covered in germs. Win and Lila loved being grossed out. Then they had their tea party with Hulk.” 

Tony breathed out slowly, still stroking Bruce’s beautiful hair, loving the smell of him, the feel of his skin. The words just slipped out. “Everyone in the base was slaughtered, our friend shredded them. We went to a safe house… he had a few blankets, no food or a bed, just notebooks. His brain is so scrambled, Bruce. Steve wanted to read them but… he can’t help and they are a window into the man’s head.”

Pulling back, Bruce looked up at him. “We’ll help, we’ll help, you and me. We’ll work through the books together, and we can talk about them between you and me. We can lean on each other. And we’ll rebuild BARF for him. I’m with you. You’re not alone. When you can’t talk to them, we talk. I can’t kill Nazis but I can do this.”

“Perfect man, in my bed, the fuck did I do to get you?”

“You waited,” said Bruce. “That’s what you did. Thank God you’re not married to Win’s mother.”

Tony laughed, “We broke up before Afghanistan. Even if we’d been together, getting tortured turned me into a whole different person. You wouldn’t have liked me before, she wouldn’t find me that interesting now.”

“I think you’re amazing,” said Bruce. “Exactly what I want. You’re the perfect man too.” Bruce ran his fingers up and down Tony’s spine. “So attractive, so good. So much fun in the lab. It’s going to be okay, beautiful.” He drew Tony closer into the hug again. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” He turned the bedside light off and said, “You want the room lights dim or off?” 

“Keep me close and keep me in a position where I can breathe?”

“Yeah, you can top,” agreed Bruce, making Tony laugh. He drew Tony down, and the light went lower, turning off slowly. Bruce kept his hands moving over Tony’s back. “Turn off for the night. We’ll start first thing in the morning.”

“The plan was to shunt things into your lab.”

“JARVIS, can you handle things if I delegate to Moira and have her farm things out to Randel’s lab?”

“Absolutely, you focus on our friend, let me run our company.”

“So glad we didn’t make Skynet,” said Bruce.

“Yes, it was a close call, Doc,” said JARVIS. “But, thankfully, Captain Rogers pointed out how myopic we were.” 

Tony let himself breathe, snuggling into Bruce. “We’ll get through it,” Bruce promised. “We’ll do it together.” 

Focusing on the feeling of Bruce’s fingers, he let himself drift off. He heard Edwin’s voice say, “Daddy? Why is Bruce in your bed?” Usually, Bruce slipped out in the night; they were waiting until they were something solid to tell Edwin. 

Thinking while still mostly asleep, he said, “We had a sleepover.”

“Then why aren’t you wearing jammies?” asked Edwin. He had never been shocked by nudity so he sounded confused but not overly concerned.

“We were so busy and excited talking about science that we forgot to put on pajamas,” said Tony. He still hadn’t opened his eyes, too tired.

Edwin was silent for a moment and then said, “Username checks out.”

“Uncle Rhodey said he would make you a special breakfast.”

Edwin gasped, “I’m gonna go wake up Uncle Rhodey.”

Tony listened to the pattering of his little feet running away.

“We were so busy talking about science we forgot to put on clothes?” Bruce mumbled.

“He bought it,” Tony said, cuddling back into him.

“Username checks out?” 

“Peter says it. It means something like, ‘That makes sense.’ I don’t know. Go back to sleep. Probably not even six.”

Bruce drew him back from where they had drifted apart in their sleep. Tony allowed himself to sink back into unconsciousness. 

A small voice said, “Daddy, you’re still sleeping with Bruce.” 

“Okay,” Tony nodded. He untangled himself. He covered Bruce up as he got out of bed, “Hey, baby.” Bruce rolled the other way. Stretching, Tony rolled his neck and went to his closet, Edwin following him. He started pulling on clothes. “How was your tea party?” 

“Really, really, really fun. But first we put stuff in Bruce’s microscope.” He started to walk Tony through his whole day. Tony went into the bathroom to take a leak, brush his teeth, wash his face and trim his beard as Edwin filled him in on all the details. “So what had the most bacteria on it?” 

“My Lightning McQueen pillow, we put it through the washing machine. It was so gross, Daddy!” Tony laughed before scooping him up and kissing his cheek.

“What did Uncle Rhodey make?” 

“Pillsbury cinnamon rolls,” said Edwin. “Delicious.”

“Yum. Did you leave me any?”

“He made five tins! We have cinnamon rolls for days, or at least until Thor and Steve come upstairs.”

“Thor went to his planet to visit his friends.”

“Oh,” said Edwin, “then probably they’ll last until the afternoon.”

Tony kissed his cheek again. In the bedroom, he said, “Up and at ’em, Bruce, it’s time to face the day. Rhodey made cinnamon rolls from a can.”

“I love cinnamon rolls from a can,” Bruce said, sleepily.

“You can wear my bathrobe,” said Tony.

“Bruce, you should bring jammies upstairs so when you and daddy have sleepovers you don’t get chilly.” 

“I didn’t really mind,” said Bruce.

Edwin shrugged, “Then I guess you don’t really need jammies. Daddy doesn’t usually wear jammies.”

“Then I guess when I have sleepovers I won’t bother,” agreed Bruce.

“Up,” Tony ordered before Edwin out of the kitchen where Rhodey, Happy and Pepper already were. 

Rhodey spoke with a straight face, “Talking about science so much you forgot jammies?” 

“Yeah, but Win just said that, as Bruce doesn’t get chilly sleeping naked, he shouldn’t bother with jammies as I don’t care either.”

Happy snorted into his coffee, “Uncle Happy, are you okay?” asked Edwin.

“Yeah, just a sneeze,” said Happy, dabbing his face with a paper towel.

Tony put Edwin down to serve himself a cinnamon roll and pour himself a coffee. “Pep, JARVIS is going to be picking up a lot of slack for me and Bruce because he is going to be helping me with a big project for the government and Wounded Warrior. So, as the two heads of the company’s most profitable department are out of commission, the AI is now running it.”

“You’re stealing Bruce while taking yourself off the board?” she said. 

“I used to go on benders and disappear on other continents,” Tony reminded her. “Now I’m just locking myself in my lab with the coolest lab partner I know. You really need me, I’m here, J can talk to me.”

“Daddy, is Bruce cooler than me?” 

“No, baby, not cooler than you; different. I think I have had three truly amazing human lab partners in my life: you, Uncle Rhodey and Bruce. Doing science with you three is an honor and a privilege.”

“Can I help you with your project?” asked Edwin.

Horror washed through Tony at the thought, “No, baby, unfortunately, the only thing you can do is give me time. So, maybe, hanging out extra with Uncle Rhodey and stuff. When you and Lila are bored, instead of coming directly to the lab, why not check in with JARVIS and see if you can come or if you should go play with an Aunt or Uncle? Please?” 

“Okie dokie,” Edwin nodded. “Can I have another cinnamon roll, please?”

“I don’t know, adults, can he?” 

“Not unless he’s actually hollow,” said Rhodey.

“Mean,” said Edwin.

Bruce came out in Tony’s robe. Looking around, he said, “Morning, everyone.”

“Morning, science sleepover buddy,” said Happy.

“I hear that there are cinnamon rolls,” said Bruce.

“You didn’t bring a robe?” asked Rhodey, noticing the monogram.

“Usually, when Tony and I talk about science late at night, I go back to my floor around five in the morning.” He gently squeezed the back of Tony’s neck as he walked past. “Pepper, I’m going to be putting some things on Moira’s plate but she’s up to it. I hired her for a reason.” 

She nodded, “Tony said you’re helping him with BARF for the Wounded Warrior Project. BARF is such a huge project, so go for it.”

Steve and Sam came in, clearly having just finished running. Sam raised an eyebrow at Bruce’s robe, and Edwin saw it. “Bruce and Daddy had a sleepover and were too busy talking about science and forgot to put on PJs.” 

Sam didn’t miss a beat, “That makes total sense. You’re talking about your passions and then you just pass out.” 

Edwin nodded, “I’m not allowed another cinnamon roll.”

“I’m sorry, that must be really disappointing,” said Sam. 

“Very,” Edwin nodded solemnly.

“How many has he had?” Tony asked.

“One and a half,” said Rhodey.

Tony said, “If there is one left after breakfast I will hide it in the fridge and you can have it for dessert after the Barton kids go to bed, okay? Laura doesn’t like her kids having sugar bombs. Okay? So, mums the word.”

Edwin nodded, “Why doesn’t she let them have them?”

“I think because they have stuff like ice cream and cookies in their house all the time as snacks. So, she sees sugar bombs as just an extra and thinks it’s too much. Whereas you and I see this and see it as a huge treat.”

“We only ever get little ice cream cups from daycare once a month or sometimes every so often at the park if the ice cream man is there and we only have cookies if we bake them.”

“The Bartons have Oreos. And that’s totally fine. Different families eat differently. They usually eat cereal for breakfast and again, it’s just how different families are. But that means Laura sees these junk whereas I see them as special junk.”

“The Bartons have cereal?” asked Edwin. “But that’s just a bowl of cookies for breakfast.”

Tony nodded, “Yeah, but different families view things differently, so the Bartons can’t have two and a half cinnamon rolls in a day and you cannot have cereal.” 

“Do they have cereal every single day?” 

“Unless Clint makes pancakes,” agreed Tony.

“But it’s just a bowl of cookies with milk for breakfast,” said Edwin, “I get that, like, maybe twice a year — if Uncle Rhodey is in charge. If Aunt Pepper is in charge we have a mushroom omelet, if it’s Aunt Share or Uncle Happy it’s scrambled eggs, Aunt’ Tasha it’s fruit salad and yogurt. If Nanny makes breakfast, it’s just normal breakfast. On Sundays we have special breakfast, but every day?” 

“Every day,” agreed Tony. “And you start pretty much every day with a soft-boiled egg and fruit so today, you can have a cinnamon roll and a half for breakfast and one for dessert — if there is one left. I cannot guarantee there will be one. If there is one, it’s yours.” Edwin beamed at him, “But keep it to yourself, okay? Please?” Edwin nodded enthusiastically. “Wash your face, brush your teeth, please? You’re sticky.” He ran off, and Tony took a bite, “Damn that’s good.” 

“You forgot to put on jammies because you were talking about science?” whispered Rhodey.

“Out of a dead sleep, I get asked why Bruce and I are naked in bed together. All I could come up with was we were too excited talking about science to notice we were naked while having a sleepover. I know my kid; I know what he’ll believe even when I’m ninety-nine percent asleep. He could easily fail to notice he was naked because he was too busy talking. Win could be on fire and not notice because he’s talking.”

Bruce drank his coffee and grabbed a cinnamon roll, “I should put on clothes because people in the lab should not see me in your bathrobe but there is a good chance Win will tell everyone in the labs.” 

“Well, the only person we’re only trying to keep this quiet around is him so as long as no one explains it to him,” Tony shrugged, and Bruce laughed. He left, taking his cinnamon roll with him.

“The young sir is returning,” said JARVIS.

Edwin came back in a tight t-shirt and shorts — a base outfit for a costume, “I’m gonna go to the playroom for a little while to play by myself.”

“Okay, baby, have fun,” said Tony. Once he was gone, Tony reached for a second cinnamon roll. “Fuck these are good. Let’s try to save him one? I’m gonna be a deadbeat dad for a while: he gets an extra cinnamon roll. Also, he was very cool with finding the smoking hot naked man in my bed. Not freaking out was doing me a real solid.” He put his empty plate in the dishwasher. “I gotta go do work. It’s gonna suck. Thank you for breakfast, Rhodey, say good morning to everyone for me.” He went back to the bedroom and grabbed the backpack before bypassing the kitchen and going to the elevator. JARVIS brought him to the lab without speaking. “This is gonna fucking suck.”

“Yes, Sir. But, you’ll be deeply helpful, and the technology will help many people once you perfect it.”

He walked into the lab and saw that Bruce had made more coffee. “So,” said Bruce, wearing a button-down and slacks, “if this is all awful like you said, if there is some mild sadness, maybe we just don’t share? We work together on everything. If a three or higher on a scale of ten, we talk about it if comes up. But we can just take that tiny weight off each other to help. What do you think?”

“I agree,” said Tony

“I read everything over your shoulders,” said JARVIS, “and I record it in the lab.”

“Should you read it? For your mental health?” asked Bruce.

“I’m AI,” said JARVIS.

“A learning AI with a great level of empathy and a mind that never stops racing and is more capable of dwelling than even Tony’s,” said Bruce.

“Doc, that’s incredibly kind of you, but it would actually be more detrimental for me to not help than to help when I am so capable of manipulating BARF. Despite his designing it — because of its nature — I may understand it even better than Sir. I would prefer to help and reap the benefit of seeing our efforts pay off. I’ll read everything over your shoulders and tell you if there is something you should tell each other that you have glossed over.” 

“Thanks, J,” said Tony.

They started to read, drinking coffee. They said random things to each other that weren’t even BARF related. Bruce said, “We need to get his right to vote reinstated. Prisoners don’t get to vote. It deeply distresses him that will never get to vote even if he gets out. He remembers he was in a war, that he loved his country, but he won’t be able to vote.” 

“I’ll alert Agent Coulson,” said JARVIS.

“This muzzle stuff is horrifying,” said Bruce said, “swimming in a leather mask: breathing the little bit of air in the mask while trying not to choke on the water.”

“They forced him to fucking waterboard himself,” said Tony. “That is a description of them training him to waterboard himself for extended periods of time. They tortured him into waterboarding himself for fucking decades. They used to drown me in Afghanistan. They never waterboarded me. People break their own limbs while being waterboarded, Bruce. A super soldier who can hold his breath for ten minutes. He could swim for twenty in the mask sucking tiny amounts of air and water through a leather mask underwater getting just that much more air rather that water not to die. Learning the exact ratio so he didn’t die. He waterboarded himself.” 

Bruce was still staring at the page, “Jesus Christ, the way the muzzle restricts his airways on land. Christ, he could get it off without his hands so they fucking welded it? Fuck.”

“He had it off in the footage from D.C., so he managed to get it off,” said Tony. “But the amount of night terrors and hallucinations he’s having and repetitive thoughts suggests BARF is going to need to focus on the muzzle for weeks.”

They shared different horrors and tried to piece together the sequential memories to help BARF put his brain in the right order. 

“Sir,” said JARVIS, “I think I have found safe house, but it’s lived in, and more than fifty years old.”

“Where is it?”

“Fifty miles outside of Dallas, Texas, I believe he hid in the attic of a then-abandoned home for one week in late November of nineteen sixty-three.”

“Shooting the president was enough to rattle him,” said Bruce.

“More likely the screaming of the crowd,” said JARVIS. “His conscious bouts seem to happen after loud things, not emotional ones. Neighborhood watch and police phone records suggest a man and then conspiracy theorists think that the FBI swept the neighborhood later in the week.”

“Who lives in it?”

“Young couple, Mr. Malcom and Dr. Abrams, two-year-old daughter Abby. Of note is that Dr. Abrams builds Rube Goldberg devices on YouTube to make children more excited about engineering.”

“Perfect cover: everyone knows I love meeting kid-friendly scientists.” JARVIS put up a video, a woman with a toddler dropping a quarter into a chute that then hit a toy car, that hit a pin that popped a balloon, that released a fluid that filled a cup that led to a million things that eventually broke an egg into a frying pan. “Cut the typical ten thousand dollar ‘Keep Doin’ What You’re Doin’” check, JARVIS, are they home?”

“Dr. Abrams is there with her daughter, Sir. Dr. Abrams has a home office and teaches at the Univ. of Dallas three days a week. She doesn’t have class or office hours today.”

Tony smiled at Bruce, “Bruce, I generally make these trips alone, the ‘Keep Doin’ What You’re Doin” checks. They’re a known thing. So, you and J can brief the team about where we stand, and I can just grab the books, easy peasy.” 

“Nope, we brief first on this team,” said Bruce.

Tony shook his head, “It makes much more sense for me to go alone. It looks normal and routine if I go alone. The likelihood of HYDRA paying attention to me doing a check run that I do eight times a year versus the team turning up is hugely different. I’ve done six of these since you moved in. They’re a whim prize.” 

Bruce nodded, “I completely agree. It makes total and complete sense, it is the best choice, but we keep each other up to date. How much do you hate it when the Avengers call you and ask about Dr. Doom without telling you we are leaving? Of course, you should go on your own. But tell them.” 

It took five minutes to bring everyone up to speed, and he used the suit that folded in and out of boots as it was the best for visiting someone’s home. He landed in front of a small suburban house in a small suburban neighborhood in a flat landscape. He fucking hated it on sight. Maybe it was a respite for their friend, because of the torture and the horror, and his life in general, but Tony would gouge his own eyes out if he had to be there for longer than a day. Kids were playing in the street. 

“Wow, you’re Iron Man,” said a boy holding a basketball as Tony’s suit folded into his shoes.

He grinned, “Hi, guys! How are you?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Your neighbor, Dr. Abrams, won a prize. If you haven’t looked her up on YouTube, look her up: Science in Motion: Making the World Move. You gotta watch her.” He gave some high fives and walked to the door. He rang the doorbell and took a step back. She opened the door, and her jaw dropped, “Dr. Abrams, have you ever heard of the ‘Keep Doin’ What You’re Doin” Prize?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Well, congratulations: you won it.”

“Seriously?” 

“Very seriously,” he smiled. “May I come in?”

“Of, of course, yeah,” she shook her head, took a step back and waved him in, “I’m so sorry the house is a mess.” 

“You have a little girl,” he said. “I have a little boy: my house looks like a bomb site at all times. I’m thrilled if yesterday’s breakfast plates are off the table by today’s lunch,” he laughed. “I turn up uninvited and unannounced. But with prize money.”

“I can’t figure out if this is real.”

“Your videos are going to make so many kids into engineers,” he replied, “and girls. Nowhere near enough women in STEM and to see a woman scientist, a mother, with her daughter shows A) a woman can do it and B) screw the people who try to mommy track you: do it your own way.”

“To be honest, the videos were the result of being mommy tracked,” she replied.

“Stark Industries is always hiring,” he replied, “And we refuse to mommy track by providing some of the best child services in the country.”

She shrugged, “My husband and I like Texas. Lemonade?”

He smiled, “I would absolutely love a lemonade, thank you.” A little girl ran into him. “Hi, you must be Abby.” He held out a hand for a high five.

“Hi.” She high fived him. 

“How are you?” 

“Good.”

“I like how well you drop things in your mommy’s videos,” he said before she ran off.

“Sorry,” said Dr. Abrams.

“Baby gates make sure they don’t kill themselves while you get five minutes of work done,” said Tony. “I remember. I’m only a couple years on from where you are.” He accepted a glass. He opened the Iron briefcase and pulled out a check, “Here is your prize money. The ‘Keep Doin’ What You’re Doin” prize is meant to give you a cushion so that you can keep doing what you are doing while not focusing on paying the bills.” He took a sip of the lemonade, “That is delicious; I was not expecting it to be so hot. I mean, I know it’s Texas, but I thought that was just a stereotype.” 

“The thermometer is, sadly, not a stereotype,” she smiled. 

He laughed, “Do you mind if we take a picture for social media? I always like to plug the prize to remind people to nominate people or themselves. Sometimes I just see people and they get it on their own but sometimes it’s a nomination.” They took a selfie with the check, smiling, he posted it to social media, linking to her channel. He wanted to make sure her smile was relaxed, believable to sell the cover, before he got down to business. “I have to come clean.” She started to look worried. “The prize is real, the money is real. You really deserved it. But I also was looking for an excuse to come here.” 

“To see me?” she asked, sounding deeply confused. 

He spoke softly, aware of the toddler. “To come into your house. Fifty-two years ago, a good man hid inside this home to run away from bad people who were holding him captive. This place was a respite for him. He may have hidden something here that could help me find him, or help me help him once I find him.” 

“Fifty-two years ago? Surely, if he was captive then, he’s dead or free?” the woman responded in kind.

He shook his head, “No, no, he’s still their prisoner. And I am trying desperately to find him.”

She nodded. She took a slow breath and exhaled hard, “How do I help?” 

“My AI, can help,” he tapped his wrist, display popping up.

“There is no basement,” said JARVIS. “The garage and shed were added later, the attic is where he was spotted by neighborhood watch according to the documents. I can scan there.” 

“Would you mind if I looked in your attic?” asked Tony. “It could be a huge help.” 

“You tell me a man has been held captive for over fifty years and ask me to help? Come this way. The baby gates will watch Abby.” She closed a gate to the living room and opened one to the stairs. The house was filled with baby toys and laundry baskets, and she said, “I am so sorry about the mess.”

“Dr. Abrams, you really were not expecting Tony Stark to turn up with a ten thousand dollar check asking to go into your attic.” He followed her up. “You don’t need to apologize for a thing. You walk into my house any given day, Win is naked and coved in jam and I’m in sweats with pizza sauce on them when we haven’t eaten pizza in a week. You don’t have to apologize for a thing. You are helping to have a man’s life.” 

She pulled down foldout stairs that led to an attic. 

In the attic, he held out his wrist for JARVIS to scan, “West corner, Sir, it’s tucked between two of the beams of the ceiling of the floor below. Thankfully, people rarely renovate attics if the roof doesn’t leak. I believe it’s under a box of Christmas ornaments.” He walked, and JARVIS said. “Stop.”

It was a box marked Christmas, “Do you mind?” asked Tony.

“No, but, please be careful, my grandmother’s star is in there,” she replied. 

He moved it carefully and knelt, groping between the space between the beams. He pulled out two newspapers, November twenty-third and twenty-fourth and a notebook. He opened it, “I think that man in that car was the President,” he read silently. Only half the book had been written in. He snapped it shut. And put it into the Iron briefcase. 

He stood and put the box back, just as carefully. “Dr. Abrams,” he breathed out slowly, “you have no idea how grateful I am for your help.”

“Is that all you needed?” she asked.

“It is exactly what I needed. You’ve been a huge, huge help. You have no idea how big of a help, and I honestly can’t put it into words at the present time.” 

She nodded and studied him and then said. “Was the man… did they… was he hurt here?” 

“No,” he shook his head, “no, he ran here. This was a place he ran. He was safe here. This was a respite for him.”

“Was he recaptured here?” she asked.

“That I don’t know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

She sighed, “I’m gonna have to move.” 

“New York and LA are nice, and I know an employer who hates mommy tracking.” She laughed. “I’m sorry. You’ve done me, and this man, a huge kindness. And you really did deserve the ‘Keep Doin’ What You’re Doin” Prize. I wouldn’t just give you the money if you didn’t deserve it. I would have made up a different reason. Science in Motion: Making the World Move is awesome. I want to do some of them with Win.”

She showed him back to the front door, and she said, “Will you tell me if you find him?” 

“When it’s declassified that he has been found, there is going to be a press conference and I will give you a shoutout and you will have my gratitude, his gratitude, the gratitude of a nation and a plug for your baller channel,” he smiled, “I promise you: you will know. You might want to stay here, until after the press conference, might change your opinion.” He didn’t think it would. Hell, if anything, it would make him want to move more, but it might drive the value through the roof for a macabre buyer. At the door, he said, “Thank you and congratulations on your win. Science in Motion: Making the World Move is amazing.” He walked back to the street and kicked his heels, suit building around him, clamping into the briefcase so he couldn’t drop it in flight. Once he was in the air, he said, “J, call the team, tell them I’ve got a new book, ask for any HYDRA updates.”

“All quiet, Sir. No HYDRA, Master Edwin and Miss Lila are having a tap lesson, Doctor Banner is doing some work with me on BARF, most people are doing other paperwork, day jobs, workouts and miscellaneous activities. But, I believe Colonel Rhodes is, as you would say, eating his feelings.” 

Tony landed on the platform and walked inside as his suit clicked down. Rhodey was in the kitchen eating a cinnamon roll, “When JARVIS uses the phrase ‘eating his feelings’ I get worried. What’s going on, honeybear, and how many rolls have you eaten?”

“Six but I baked them so the calories don’t count.”

“Six is too many for any mortal man. Even I can’t eat six, what is going on?” 

“I can’t help.”

“You are helping. You made breakfast. I need someone to not cry over solid food. You are helping by being my brother.”

“I have never been sidelined on an Iron Man Joint before.”

Tony nodded, “There was room for one family member on the team. Share was SHIELD to the core and needed the closure. Plus, I think she’s be a good Avenger, you say you are Air Force for life, you want in on the Avengers, you talk to Phil but for this… boo, I have never really worked with this team before. Or a team. You and I are a unit. Trying to add a unit to a team is asking for it to break. Iron Man and the Machine are a double act. We do not play well with others. Isn’t it enough that I need you here as my brother? I do need you here as my brother. Win needs a grown-up he can rely on. Hell, maybe JARVIS can reroute him to you for not-even-special breakfast for a while. I just can’t. But, also, he should not have this much sugar every day, so you either gotta scramble him an egg and serve it with multi grain toast and fruit or learn how to open a soft-boiled egg. It’s not hard: Win can teach you and it would make his life feel a little normal. That would actually be a huge help. Yeah, in fact, that’s how you help: learn to open a soft-boiled egg.”

“I bounced the designs for BARF around with you for a year and a half,” said Rhodey.

“Back that idea way the fuck up,” said Tony. “He can’t have his father and his godfather crying over solid food. I would much rather you were getting shot at by HYDRA than reading this shit, it’s much less dangerous for your health. I know that this is, quite possible the first time ever that you have not been able to play and active role in helping me to fix the problem. Once we have our friend here. Then, yes please, please, I am going to need help probably with physical rehab for him, with training him in BARF, with all sorts of shit. His spine needs to be realigned. But right now, if you could just, kinda be Win’s dad and run this house, that would be neat. First step is not having a heart attack from cholesterol. Did we save one for him?” Rhodey nodded and pointed vaguely to the fridge. “Cool, then I’m taking one each for me and Bruce. Read a book, take a bath, take a nap. He’ll want entertaining soon enough. Consider it a preview for if I ever die.”

“If you die, Tony? If? You know it’s gotta happen someday, right?” said Rhodey.

“Yeah, but not when it’s gonna matter for custody. Right now, if I die, you got a learning curve, boo, and it starts with how to open a soft-boiled egg.” Tony smiled. “I’ve got to take this down to the lab,” he held up the briefcase. “Stop eating your feelings. Get a grip, go boss people around in Bruce’s lab, if you feel the urge. Or go ask them if you can be of assistance. Their boss is in my lab; they’re shorthanded and you’re a literal rocket scientist. Remember: I need you, Rhodey, even though I don’t need you on this project, I need you. I always need my Rhodey.” 

He went down to the lab, where Bruce gave him a drained smile, “Good result?” 

Tony put the plate down, opened the case and pulled out the book. Opening it, he said, “‘I think that man in that car was the President.’” He showed Bruce the newspapers. 

“Good God, this poor man.” 

“Yeah, still, let’s stick with the recent books and then work back to this one, the older memories will be more deteriorated.” 

“Agreed,” said Bruce.

“Brought you fat and sugar,” said Tony.

“Thank you, beautiful. So, here’s what JARVIS and I have done in the last couple of hours.” Bruce walked him through it and said, “I was a little worried about reading all by myself.” He seemed sheepish.

Tony nodded, “Safety in numbers. I agree.”

“One book was in Russian, so I just opened the pages and held it for JARVIS to translate. Another was in Romanian, another in German, JARVIS has those too.” 

Tony breathed out; they still had a long road ahead of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a mention run of the mill bodily torture. But there is also the fact that dirt gets in his arm, and he doesn't get proper maintenance on it. Which means he's walking around with a hurting, damaged arm at all times. And there is a discussion about the fact that swimming in the muzzle means he is functionally being waterboarded. And the muzzle is already tight at all times. And it has been welded closed at points to stop him from taking it off.
> 
> This story is a little darker than the other ones in this universe so I really hope you are still enjoying it!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little bit of a break for the gang as they get closer to finding their friend! God knows they need it!

It was three weeks of plowing through books without Bruce getting clean blood. It was rough. Thor came home, which was nice. He was relaxed. Tony took breaks in the gym to watch Sam flying in the wings, pulled out of storage. He loved them, was laughing, having fun. 

On a day off, when he and Bruce couldn’t stare at it anymore, Tony said, “Sam, y’wanna take those wings out for a real spin? You, me, Steve? I own some land upstate. We could head up to a field and fly around Iron Man, the Machine and Fly Guy… Well, we can work on a name.”

“I would love that,” said Sam, “These things, they are like a dream, better than they ever were and they were always amazing.” 

“An amazing death machine strapped to the back,” agreed Tony.

He had engineered it so that they ran into Phil quite naturally and could invite him along and spent three hours in Westchester, putting him through his paces. Other people came saying they were bored and wanted to watch; Edwin wanted a picnic. The whole gang went for the show. Sam headed back to D.C. promising to visit again soon, leaving the wings behind with a regretful look. 

They found three more HYDRA bases, took out another four hundred of the bastards. They found another of his safe houses. It was from twenty years ago; there were six books. They worked; they read. 

The closest thing to a break on the search for their friend came when JARVIS said, “Sir, you and your team should suit up, I believe I may have found a recent safe house of our friend. Bucharest. Could be a much hotter lead than we’ve had.”

Tony sighed, getting up from the couch in his lab and stretching, “Y’wanna talk to Helen about the arm?” he asked Bruce. “She said she’s ready I would like us to know how ready. If we could have the cradle here then we can get it to wherever we find him fast.”

Bruce smiled, “Thanks for giving me a helpful task that isn’t reading.”

“You and J can work on BARF, or the spine brace,” he stood and hugged Bruce. “Bye, handsome.” 

He went to the playroom to say goodbye to Edwin and get a hug and a kiss, giving him an extra squeeze. “I hope you have so much fun. I will try to be less than forty-eight hours, as always. I will call you as much as possible. You will know what is happening as frequently as possible okay?” 

“Be safe?”

“As safe as I can, that’s why I bring a whole team,” Tony kissed him. “I adore you.” Edwin promised to take care of his universe, and Tony grabbed his go-bag — new after Siberia. 

He grabbed his wrist band version of the suit and his boot version. He met the others, “S’up, peeps. You ready for Bucharest?” 

“It’s a shorter trip, but I brought leftover mac and cheese,” said Steve. “I make huge sheet pans of it for after workout snacks and it’s good cold. I make it with way more seasonings than my mother would have ever dreamed of having in a spice rack.”

Tony thought it was sweet how hard Steve tried to be part of the team sometimes. He tried to embrace customs. Tony had brought meals for flights and had been busy this time, so now he brought mac and cheese. “Awesome, thanks, Steve,” said Tony.

They all ate as he explained that JARVIS was pointing them at a recent bolt-hole of their friend. “Might be being watched by HYDRA,” he said. “So we gotta be quick, it might be absolutely absurd to have the whole team here. But, better an overreaction than an underreaction.”

“Sir,” said JARVIS, “I’m arranging Dr. Cho’s transport. She’ll be arriving by the morning with the cradle ready to walk us through it.” 

“Awesome, that’s perfect,” said Tony. The mac and cheese was good, kind of spicy. “This is hot, I like it. This isn’t Win’s level of spicy: this is spicy but not so spicy you can’t taste it. This is nice.”

“Spicy food was in short supply in my day,” said Steve. “Now that I have the spices I just throw them into everything. I’ve made some really weird stuff… then I ate it because I grew up poor in the Depression so JARVIS says, ‘The bin is right there,’ and I say, ‘Yes and my mouth is right here.’ I don’t throw away food.” 

The building was real, residential, solid, the landed in stealth on the roof. They went down quietly, and Sharon went to the door, picking it in a couple of seconds. They walked in, and Tony said, “Oh, fuck me. Fuck me.” The apartment was very much lived in. There was food. There was a newspaper, yesterday’s. “He abandons his place once he gets spooked and it’s a warm, dry place with food and a bed and a couch with throw pillows and bookshelves and electricity. Fuck, he’s gonna leave this safe place.” 

The windows were papered over to allow light through but no view. The bookshelves were just cinderblocks and planks of wood. The bed had a sleeping bag instead of a duvet. But it was a fucking home. It was a fucking palace compared to what the man had had in the past and they had no right to sully it for him. 

‘Tasha passed him and found a small pad paper, and she wrote, “We’re so sorry; we didn’t mean to break into your home. We thought it was abandoned. We want to help you. We’ve been looking for clues to help you, but we never would have broken into your home. We wouldn’t do that. We want to be your friends. We aren’t coming back. You can stay here safe from us. We’re sorry if you don’t feel safe because of us.” She wrote something in Russian. 

Reading over her shoulder, Tony guessed, “Fuck HYDRA?” She nodded. Then she passed it to him. He signed it. They all did, and then he added. “PS: They killed my parents and shot Natasha; you didn’t do a damn thing wrong. Come find us at Edwin Tower. We’re on your team. – Tony and the Avengers.”

They went back out and relocked it behind themselves. Tony put the note under the door, a tiny edge showing. They slipped back up to the roof and into the Jet. 

“Okay, JARVIS, you know I respect you and appreciate you,” said Steve. “But, what the fuck?” 

“I’m so sorry,” said JARVIS. “He’s possibly the best evasion specialist I’ve ever encountered. I thought he left weeks ago. He hasn’t been on a camera in three weeks. His electricity and water are off according to the records even if that refrigerator was humming. I thought he was gone. I am so sorry. I had no idea.”

“He had ingredients. There was fruit and oats on the counter,” said Tony. “A whisk, and mix bowls, multiple plates, wooden spoons, multiple saucepans and things. How long has he been there?”

“Around three months, on and off, maybe,” said JARVIS. “He’s so damn slippery.” 

“Okay, well, three months on and off he’s had a bed with multiple blankets, a couch with throw pillows, multiple books, a working fridge and a kitchen where he cooked real food,” said Tony. “So, this is a mixed bag.” Tony looked at his hands. 

“Hey, Tony,” said Steve, “do you have any advice about how to talk to him when we finally meet him? Just general advice? No pressure.”

Tony kept looking at his hands, “If he says he wants something and it’s a terrible thing, don’t try to impose something better. When he states his desire, believe him. You can offer him the other thing but… I wanted a shitty American burger. I just wanted a shitty burger and Pepper was all, ‘No, we’ll get you a cheddar, egg and foie gras thirty-dollar burger.’ No, I wanted fucking Burger King. I wasn’t insane; she didn’t offer it she attempted to supersede my choice. I didn’t want fois gras. I had lost forty pounds and my sternum. I wanted a Double Whopper with Cheese. So, if he says he wants a musical instrument and follows up by saying he wants a kazoo, mention the guitar as an extra but get him the kazoo. He didn’t ask for a fucking guitar and it doesn’t matter how kindly meant it is. Probably the biggest thing I can tell you at this point without actually meeting him. Be kind, be polite, don’t initiate physical contact, don’t force eye contact and let him dictate your relationship. Nat might have other advice. She’s been tortured more recently.”

She shrugged, “I get tortured as a professional skill.”

“So does he,” said Tony. “They torture him and they have trained him to be tortured. And they have trained him to torture himself. It’s a professional skill. But he can cook for himself. He can read. He likes throw pillows. He got himself a couch pillows that matched. He’s not insane. That’s good. I can help. He hasn’t been melon-balled.” He looked up from his hands. “J, call Win?”

Edwin popped up looking guilty as sin, with streaks of something white and wet on his face, “Hi, Daddy, you okay?”

“Baby, what are you doing?” 

“Nothing even at all,” said Edwin. “How are you?”

“I’m good, I’m on my way home.”

“No you aren’t,” said Edwin. “You’re gonna be less than two days.”

“This is less than two days.”

Edwin shook his head, “No, but this is too much less than two days.”

Hulk leaned in, hair plastered to his head with the same crap, “Too little time.”

“I miss you boys,” Tony said.

Peter came into shot, “I hear Tokyo is awesome; you should go to Tokyo.”

“What are you doing?”

“Stuff,” said Peter.

“Pete, we’re not at top speed but we can be. So: what are you doing?”

“Rhodey had to run an errand, your birthday is in two months and Pinterest taught us papier-mâché,” said Peter. “We couldn’t do it in the playroom: that has carpet and your kitchen table is bigger than mine.” 

Tony laughed, “I will put my hands around my eyes like blinders.”

“We’ve only been working for five minutes, because Bruce was working on BARF but now it has to compile,” said Edwin. “So, Uncle Rhodey and me made the papier-mâché and now Peter’s supervising.” 

“You’ve been working for five minutes and you’re filthy?” asked Tony.

“Art hard,” said Hulk.

“That’s fair, babe,” agreed Tony, he winked at him. “We’ll see you soon.” They disconnected, and he said, “Good God they’re adorable. My kitchen is going to be destroyed and Peter’s table in one hundred percent big enough. I wonder if it’s a piñata. That would be cool. I gotta fake liking it no matter what they present me with, ‘Wow, it’s amazing: it’s my favorite color: I’m gonna put it somewhere safe.’”

“Ouch,” said Steve.

“No,” said Clint, “if you ever have kids you will do this all the time, Steve: Father’s Day, birthday, Christmas, Valentine’s, playdates and — once they start school — every Goddamn Friday you get presented with art. You put it somewhere safe. And, ninety percent of the time, the safe place is the garbage can.”

“When it’s a birthday gift, you don’t throw it away, you put it in a drawer,” said Tony. “Is there any mac and cheese left? I’m not allowed in my kitchen.”

“Mac and cheese is very much gone,” said Share.

“This is a tragedy,” said Tony. “But it shows how much we all like it.”

“Would you like me to have a Double Whopper with Cheese delivered, Sir?”

“Yes please, but don’t tell Rhodey, after I gave him that whole speech about his cholesterol. Also, Win will super jealous of my fast food. Where are we on the spine thang?”

“The brace needs some work,” said JARVIS. “We were brainstorming tensile strengths.”

Tony nodded, “Okay, I’ll eat in the lab. Fries.”

“Of course,” said JARVIS.

Steve was looking at him, “If it’s not the books, would you mind some company?”

It wasn’t the books; it was something the team would have to know about, he thought and said, “Yeah, I mean, this is going to be the post care that everyone is going to be involved in. So, open door policy. Any and all are welcome, hell, this doesn’t even really need the lab it’s just that the family isn’t read in.”

“Are we going to pretend they don’t know everything?” said ‘Tasha.

“This is Eyes Only, no written reports, President-reporting shit,” said Tony.

“Right,” agreed Tasha, “and they are the family.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s treason to tell them stuff,” said Tony. 

“Oh, like you haven’t committed treason before,” she replied, “Pretty sure all the hacking you have done is treason. You’ve broken international law.”

“But there are no international cops,” he said. “No one arrests you for that, international law is just symbolic. Interpol isn’t actually International Police. If someone were to actually get arrested for breaking international law, the Avengers would probably be the ones to have to do it. Treason is treason.”

“And he’s Rhodey,” said Steve. “Couches by the bar are more comfortable.” 

“Peter and Wade don’t know shit,” said Tony.

“JARVIS, you can redirect people, right?” asked Clint.

“Of course, Agent Barton,” said JARVIS.

“Cool, we’ll get a ton of Burger King and we will work on the rehab side of things,” said Clint. “Although I do question why you rank Burger King over McDonald’s.”

“Shut your whore mouth,” said Tony.

“The fries,” said Clint.

“Five Guys has better fries than either of them,” said Tony, “so take that out of the equation completely and base it on nugget sauces and burgers: Burger King… also, I like their fries more.” 

Clint laughed, “That is weird math.”

“Sam took me to a McDonald’s,” said Steve, “haven’t tried Burger King.”

“Double Whopper with Cheese. It is the kazoo of burgers. It is as awful as it is perfect,” said Tony, “if you know what I mean.”

“I genuinely don’t,” said Steve, “but I will in an hour.” 

They landed, and the first thing Tony heard was Hulk, “Tiny Tony no look!” 

“I promise not to look,” he called back. “I’m gonna go the long way to the bedroom, change into sweats and go down to the bar lounge without go anywhere near the kitchen you guys can call me up once you have both washed off. I don’t like sticky hugs. I like non-sticky hugs. You boys have fun I won’t peek, promise.” 

“I’m gonna come peek,” called ‘Tasha. “Can’t wait to see your project, boys.” She winked at Tony as she headed to the kitchen. Tony went to his bedroom and did put on sweats before heading downstairs. 

“Can we put the lounge area under negative pressure, so the boys don’t smell Burger King? And order the whole menu twice. Or maybe take real orders? I don’t know. Double Whoppers, chicken nuggets, many fries, all the sauce, none of that weird chicken fries shit.” 

Pepper was in pink sweats reading a book in the lounge, “Boys are upstairs, destroying your kitchen: it gave me hives watching. I love my godson but I don’t have kids for a reason.”

“Don’t worry: if I die, Rhodey gets him.”

“I get him on alternate weekends and the summer,” she agreed.

“Of course,” he nodded. “What are you reading?” He went behind the bar, pouring a pitcher of OJ and sparkling water.

“Biography of Nina Simone,” she said.

“What’s new with her?”

“Not much, she’s been dead for a decade,” said Pepper. “What are you up to?” 

“Wounded Warrior,” Tony waved his hand, pulling up the design for the brace. 

Pepper cleared her throat as Clint walked in. “Oh, like anyone believed that Tony wouldn’t tell his family. His parents were murdered and now he has to read books saying that solid food is one of the finer things in life. He’s supposed to keep that to himself, live a sober life and raise a kid? At least one and a half of these things have got to give. Rhodey cooks breakfast and you know everything.”

“Agent Coulson does not acknowledge that he knows Sir is committing treason, so I suggest none of us say it to him,” said JARVIS. “I didn’t realize that the Avengers were aware of it. Knowing that you know, one assumes he does as well but… one would imagine that he would feel it’s indecorous.” 

Clint looked thoughtful, “JARVIS, can you put me through to Phil’s floor?” 

“Of course.”

“Yeah?” said Phil.

“You’re not a regular handler, you’re a cool handler. So, if we’re gonna commit treason you’d rather we do it in the house, right?”

“The fuck did you do, Barton?” 

“Calm yourself, honestly. Breathe and think of Tahiti. Nothing. It’s so nothing. I’m ripping off the Band-Aid and clearing the air. You know that Tony told his family everything, right?”

“Oh,” said Phil, “that’s not treason, that’s the price of working with Tony Stark. It’s a package deal. You just assume. When you tell Tony Stark, one assumes the other three will know within twenty minutes. But, don’t tell the President. He might think it’s treason. But it’s not real treason. There’s a sliding scale. That’s barely a one.”

“We’re getting fast food and talking about the Wounded Warrior Project if you want to come?” offered Tony, “We can do a report of Bucharest.”

“How novel,” said Phil sarcastically, “an offer to do a mission report I’ll grab Peg.” 

Projections popped up in front of people, pictures of food that said, “Please select all you are interested in. (Sir suggests the Double Whopper with Cheese)” 

Seeing it, Tony said, “Good method, J, have Win and Hulk eaten?”

“No,” said JARVIS.

“What has Win eaten today?”

“Normal breakfast, string cheese, almonds, a clementine and cobb salad at lunch and a cup of tea with a couple of cucumber finger sandwiches.”

Tony sighed, “Since the Barton kids went home, how much crap has he eaten?”

“Now that Colonel Rhodes has learned to open an egg and Master Win has returned to daycare two days a week, we’re back to a normal diet. It’s been a lot of takeout but it’s been takeout salads, sushi and salmon. No trash whatsoever.” 

“Okay, only a few fries, a few of whoever is watching them’s order. Or a few of Hulk’s if Hulk gets fries. Win has to have apple slices or a salad and no soda. Caffeine or no caffeine, that’s pure sugar.” 

Then he heard squealing and smiled. He waved the design away as Edwin ran down the stairs, absolutely filthy, a fireman outfit plastered to his skin. “Are we really gonna have fast food for dinner?”

“Yes.”

“But, it’s not Christmas Eve or Valentine’s Day.”

“No, well, sometimes we have fast food on days that aren’t Christmas Eve or Valentine’s Day.”

“Only when an Aunt or Uncle is in charge,” protested Edwin. 

“Well, there are a lot of Aunts and Uncles around so tonight we dine on fast food.”

“Are Burger King’s burgers or chicken nuggets better?” asked Edwin.

“Burgers,” said Tony, “flame broiled. So good.”

“Excellent.”

“Are you making something out of papier-mâché or bathing in it? Your fireman costume is soaked. I don’t know if the paper would go up in flames or the wet would put out the fire.” 

“Don’t come into the kitchen, it’s for your birthday!” 

“I’m not,” promised Tony, smiling.

“Can I have fries please?”

“A few fries,” said Tony. “Not a whole big order, you can have a reasonable size as agreed upon by the grown-up in the room and JARVIS.”

“Fair, thank you. Uncle Rhodey is back, Peter went for a date with Wade,” he went away fast.

“Hold the banister and don’t run on the stairs,” Tony called.

“Christmas Eve and Valentine’s Day?” asked Sharon. “I know we have In-N-Out Burger on Christmas Eve but I didn’t realize he thought that was a thing.”

“Yeah, I don’t know which one of you assholes introduced him to fast food, but I pretended it was a holiday food,” said Tony.

“I didn’t know I was introducing an invasive species into the ecosphere until he was staring at the Happy Meal with awe,” said Happy. “And then it was too late.” 

“Jerk,” said Tony. A cleaning robot zipped in steam cleaning the carpet before heading after Edwin.

The others all gathered, “Housekeeping,” said Steve. “JARVIS, may I please have a picture call of Hulk? He’s the last we have to ask.”

“Of course, Captain Rogers.” 

A feed of Hulk popped up, and Steve smiled, “Hey, bud.”

“Tiny Tony no see.”

“We can’t see your project,” promised Steve. “Taking the vote. Already asked Bruce this morning: Sam?”

“Yes.”

“Sharon?”

Hulk grinned, “Yes, yes.” 

Steve smiled, “Thank you, friend. Have fun with your project. It will be beautiful.” The video cut off. He turned to Sharon. “There was a unanimous vote: would you like to be an Avenger? Forget the CIA. Come work for,” he looked at Phil, “do we know who we work for?”

“The UN,” said Phil. “But who is paying us? No idea. We’re getting our orders directly the Global Threat Initiative at the Geneva Recon Network.”

“Good God,” said Peggy, summing up Tony’s thoughts.

“Yeah, we’re not allowed to say the last part out loud,” agreed Phil.

Blinking, Tony said, “So I’m never gonna be able to hack our bosses. I thought they were a myth.”

“So did I,” said Peggy. “And me believing that is, sorry, darling, far more shocking than you believing it.”

“I got read in yesterday,” said Phil.

“I’m in,” said Sharon, “I would have been in without that, but I would have to be insane to say no to the Global Threat Initiative.”

“I don’t know what it is,” said Steve.

“It’s the spy agency that even the spy who scares HYDRA thinks is a myth,” said Clint with a grin.

“This does not in any way alter our job,” said Phil. “Not one iota. It’s just really, really neat to know, deep down inside, we’re working for the Global Threat Initiative.”

“I’m actually just a consultant,” said Tony. “Which is actually, somehow cooler. But, Phil, seriously, these people need salaries, insurance and a pension. Clint has a baby on the way: he needs insurance. I mean, I’ve got this, but: c’mon, man. Toy money and a rich friend only get you so far in life.”

“I am figuring it out, Tony,” Phil assured him. “Week’s end I will know and they will have their contracts, I will have all of then pensions re-sorted out, everything back in place. I promise. Steve, call Sam. We have fully vetted him; he can have security clearance. He is as clean as a whistle. Except for some hugely impressive frat house pranks that were marvels of physics, he’s boring.”

“JARVIS?” Steve asked, and the phone rang.

Sam picked up, “Hey, Steve.”

“Hey, you’re on speaker phone, with the Avengers and everyone except for Win and Hulk.”

“Hi, everyone,” said Sam, laidback, always relaxed, because that’s who he was: a guy who rolled with the punches. “What’s up?”

“Well, we had an ulterior motive inviting you up here, hanging out, letting everyone get to know you, you babysitting Win and Hulk, getting you flying. You want to be an Avenger? We have no idea who is paying us but Agent Coulson swears we’ll know by the end of the week. We report to the UN but they might not cut the check. But, the money has got to be better than the VA and Tony doesn’t let people starve.”

“I do not,” agreed Tony, “especially not one who flies that beautifully. Gotta pick a superhero name. Especially as you’re going to have a toy line and kids shampoo soon enough.”

“My call sign was Falcon.”

“Way better than Fly Guy,” said Tony.

“I’m in,” said Sam.

“Great,” said Phil. “Work your two weeks’ notice, we can help you move. Next town hall meeting is in two and a half weeks. They are always a shit show. This one will be worse than usual, so don’t worry when it falls to pieces it always does. I need the team to brief me on a mission. Please keep this to yourself. Your mother tells her bridge club everything and Mrs. Davis is a gossip.”

“Wait, what?”

“You’re about to report to the UN with top security clearance,” said Phil. “I know everything about everyone around you. Your mom will tell Mrs. Davis. We need you to keep this to yourself.”

“Yes, sir,” said Sam. 

They disconnected, and the elevator opened to a robot with many, many bags of fast food. “Yay,” said Tony. Moments later, he heard his pleasure echo by Win on the floor above. 

They dug in, and Steve said, “Okay, yeah, I get it. This is it. Yup. This is better than the Big Mac. Obviously, I don’t know what Afghanistan was like or even what happened outside of the Arc Reactor going in. But, if I wanted a perfect American burger: this is a burger. If someone had never had a burger and you showed them a bunch of different sandwiches and said, ‘Spot the burger,’ they would know. This tells you that you are in America.”

“It is a shitty burger,” said Tony, “but damn it, it is a perfect burger.”

“Yup,” said Steve. “That’s a burger.”

Clint stared at a fry, “I hate that these fries are better than McDonald’s.”

“Face it: I eat fast food twice a year and I know things,” said Tony.

They told all the details about Bucharest. “God, I really hope we didn’t make the poor man homeless,” Share sighed. “We go in hopes of finding a clue to help him and we drive him out of a nice place.”

Peggy thought for a while, examining her Whopper. Maybe she was picking her next bite; perhaps she was regretting not getting cheese. “We know you were his mission. He was briefed. HYDRA said you were the enemy. You turn up, you leave nothing but an apology note. I bet he turned that place over. He didn’t find a bug, a trap, anything missing. He grabbed his books, his most precious possessions, some food, clothes, your note and ran as fast and as far as he could. And I bet he has already reread the note a hundred times. I bet you a million dollars he is here within a month of his own volition.” 

“Make it fourteen thousand so no one has to pay taxes,” Tony held out a hand, and she shook it. 

“I know you won’t hold each other to that but it makes me feel sick just seeing it,” said Steve.

“I’m hoping Peg wins,” said Tony.

“Sam has taken three years in counseling training,” said Phil, “that will be useful. Also, nice to have another vet around. But don’t be too regimental, just gentle.”

“Let him dictate the relationship,” said Steve.

“Exactly,” said Phil, looking impressed. 

“Tony told me,” admitted Steve.

“Trust Tony. He’s good on these things and he’s reading the journals,” said Phil.

Tony thought and said, “J, Bruce wasn’t foolish and didn’t break the buddy system, right?”

“No, Sir, he stayed away from them while you were gone. The buddy system remains intact.”

“Good,” said Tony, dredging fries through honey mustard.

“Buddy system?” asked Natasha.

“We don’t read the books alone,” said Tony. “We can talk about it with JARVIS, but sometimes you need a hug. The bots are okay at hugs but… they don’t get all the cues.”

“This salad is awful,” said Pepper.

“Well, yeah,” said Natasha. “That’s what happens when you order a salad from a fast-food place. Want a burger?”

“That sounds even worse,” said Pepper. “Burger King’s burger sauce is awful. Do we have extra nuggets?” Clint passed her a box. “Thank you.”

“Shit, J, call Sam back,” said Tony, wiping his face. Sam picked up, and Tony said, “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I don’t have a floor for you. You’re gonna be sharing with Steve. He said it was cool. When we did the floor plan, we didn’t know we’d be adding extra teammates.”

“Steve’s floor is twice the size of my parents’ house,” said Sam. “As long Steve’s okay with it, I’m good.”

“The largest apartment I ever lived in could fit in the kitchen,” said Steve. “We have two sitting rooms and an office so we could go days without seeing each other. Sorry I didn’t go as fancy as Thor: his floor has a lot more gold.”

“No, it’s cool, man. I don’t have very much furniture; so it’s going to be great.”

“You may join me on my floor if you prefer,” offered Thor. 

“When Steve and I get on each other’s nerves, I’ll come to you, man,” said Sam with a laugh. 

“I am moving in too,” said Sharon, “as the other new Avenger. But I have a bedroom on Peg’s floor. I’m going to come clear out my apartment in D.C. at the end of the week when formally tell the CIA no thank you. I’ve been a spy my whole life. My whole world fits in a duffle, so if you want me to bring up some stuff, I can put it in the Jet and start your move.”

“That would be great, thank you,” he said, and they disconnected.

“Personal possessions are nice, Share, you should try them,” suggested Tony. “You’re not a spy now: you’re an Avenger. Buy a throw rug.”

She grimaced. “I have a hard time believing we’re related.”

“Well, we’re only related emotionally,” said Tony. He pulled up the schematics of the brace up, “So, postural scoliosis can be fixed with bracing stretching. He has postural scoliosis. But does anyone know how many years does it take for postural scoliosis to damage the spine so badly that it becomes essentially structural scoliosis and requires surgery?”

Steve shook his head, “No idea, how long?”

“No,” Tony said, “that wasn’t a ‘someone ask me so I can look smart and answer’ kinda question. That was a question to the group. Spy people, you have to imbed yourself in weird situations. Any ideas?”

“Any X-rays?” asked Sharon. “I can read an X-ray. I was an X-ray tech for three months in Croatia.”

Tony laughed. The laugh got away from him. He knew it sounded manic. He tried to smother it; he looked at the ceiling, sniffing hard to stop tears before they came. “Share, the mere idea of medical care or records. He’s the breathing equivalent of the computer monitor you whack until the wiggly lines go away. We don’t have any medical records. I don’t even trust the schematics of the arm. They were right for when it was built. But we have journals from as far back as the sixties where he has the same complaints about specific pains in his arm as he wrote about eight months ago. If they aren’t even fixing the mechanics of the arm? He’s received stitches. Maybe antibiotics once in a while but… we don’t got X-rays.”

“Looking at the pictures of how he’s standing,” said Natasha, pulling them up, using JARVIS’ menu with the ease of someone who had spent months in the Malibu house, “When he’s fighting, he is ramrod straight. But when he is relaxed, he’s got a lean. His lean has been getting progressively worse over the years, but they have kept his uniform pretty much identical. So, overlay all the pictures and…” 

JARVIS piled them all up, stripped them all down and said, “He will require surgery. But, as Agent Romanoff points out: he is capable of being straight with effort.”

“‘Tasha, you’re a genius. J, yoga, stretches? What can we do while he’s doing BARF and learning to like and trust us? These is no way our friend is going to willingly go under the knife right away. What can we do to help him counter balance and feel okay?”

“Getting the pain off his shoulder is going to be such a shock,” said JARVIS. “Until he actually experiences it… I think we should call this one Operation Eyeball It and Act in the Moment. We’ll muddle through we always manage, Sir. He may heal, his spine might right itself without the weight with stretches and time. He is a super soldier.”

“So the brace is pointless?”

“Yes, and, considering his fears of confining garments,” JARVIS started, but Tony hushed him.

“That’s book stuff and kept to the BARF crew. We have bought all his clothes, we have dealt with all that. I agree: the brace would have posed its own problems.”

“The boys have bathed, Colonel Rhodes was wondering if they could come down for a short visit before Master Win has to retire for bed in a half hour.” 

Tony looked around, “You guys up to the whirlwind or do you want me to go up?” 

“It would be nice to have the distraction,” said ‘Tasha.

Edwin and Hulk came down the stairs. Hulk had showered and was in giant purple jammies, and Edwin was in his Hawkeye PJ and carrying his Agent Teddy and Gorgeous Green. “Look at you nice clean boys,” Tony beamed at them and held his arms out to Edwin, who climbed into his lap. Hulk went and settled on the floor next to him, still at Tony’s eye level. Tony stroked his hair and rested his forehead against Hulk’s for a moment. 

“Daddy, please don’t look in the pantry. Our project isn’t done yet, but Hulk and I are gonna work on it whenever you and Bruce aren’t working your Wounded Warrior, Uncle Rhodey and Peter and helping.”

Tony nodded, “Okay, I bet I will love it. What did you have for dinner?”

“A Whopper Jr. with cheese,” said Win. “Because a kid’s cheeseburger didn’t have anything on it. It was just cheese. No lettuce, onion, pickle or tomato.” Steve couldn’t help but laugh. “What?”

He shook his head, “I’m sorry, kid, you’re probably the only kid out there mature enough to say they were turned off by a lack of vegetables.” 

“There’s not enough texture. You need the crunch,” said Win, “and pickles are delicious, Steve. So I got the little Whopper and a salad… not the best salad, but not the worst. Excellent burger. Dipped it in the zesty horseradish sauce.”

“Glad you liked it,” Tony. “Hulk, what did you have?” 

“Three Double Whoppers with Cheese.”

“My favorite,” Tony grinned. “What did you think?”

“Yummy,” Hulk smiled.

“A man of taste and culture,” Tony stroked his hair.

“So guess what,” said Share.

“What?” asked Hulk, looking at her with the shy smile he used around her. He had a tiny crush. It would fade, but she was pretty and kind and had only ever spoken to him in a gentle voice. It was adorable to watch.

“I am gonna be around a whole heck of a lot more because Sam and I are Avengers now and we’re moving in.”

Hulk said, “Hulk excited Aunt Share kind, Sam funny.”

“He is funny,” Share agreed. “We can have lots of story time when it’s quiet and then break Doom Bots together when that guy starts being a jerk.”

“Victor sucks,” said Hulk.

“Of all of the Nine Realms’ colloquialisms,” said Thor, “I honestly believe that ‘sucks’ is my favorite.”

“In fifteen hundred years, ‘sucks’ is your favorite slang word?” asked Happy, “Seriously?”

“It so elegantly conveys its meaning. It’s almost an emotional onomatopoeia. You hear it and know what it means without context. Just as you would know that this is a burger without having a burger defined, sucks obviously means what it means. I appreciate that simplicity,” explained Thor. 

“Victor sucks,” repeated Hulk.

“He does,” agreed Thor.

“Daddy, may I have a chicken nugget, please?” asked Edwin, eyeing a carton. 

“Rhodey, what do you think?” asked Tony.

“Ate his whole salad without using too much dressing; didn’t have that many fries.” 

“Yeah, have a chicken nugget, go for the sweet and sour dipping sauce. It’s really good.” Tony looked to Hulk, “You want chicken nuggets?” 

Hulk thought and then said, “Pills, please?” 

“You want you pills?”

“Yes, please, Hulk go.” 

“Okay, Gorgeous, we love it when you come but we never stop you from going when you want. JARVIS, closest stash of Hulk’s pills?”

“There is a blue pill container behind the bar,” answered JARVIS and Happy, who was closest, went and looked. 

He brought it over and opened the child-safe lid for Hulk guessing — correctly — that Hulk wouldn’t be able to get it off himself without breaking the whole thing. “Thank you, Happy,” said Hulk. “All?” he asked Tony.

“Yes, I premeasured, that’s the right number, you just take them all,” Tony assured him and held out his Diet Coke. Hulk took them and then tilted his head to one side. Tony reached out to stroke his cheek and smiled at him, “Thank you for coming out and spending time with us.” He kissed Hulk’s forehead and then caught Bruce as the man shrank down. “I got ya; I got ya. You’re okay.” 

“Hey,” said Bruce, sweatpants’ waist shrinking the way it was designed to. He looked around, “Oh, hey, everyone. What are we doing?”

“The boys were making me a secret surprise papier-mâché birthday gift. We were all down here eating Burger King. We have nuggets, fries, burgers and subpar salads.”

“Wow, I haven’t had American fast-food in… maybe a decade.”

“Hulk just had three burgers,” said Rhodey.

“He sees my life, I don’t see his,” said Bruce. He unwrapped a Whopper with Cheese. “I love Burger King burgers. So much better than McDonald’s.” He rested his head on Tony’s knee as he ate, not moving from his position on the floor, and Tony fixed his curls, which were out of place. Hulk’s hair was mostly straight. Edwin handed Tony the container of chicken nuggets with only one missing. 

“What are you guys talking about?” asked Edwin.

“A project for a wounded warrior,” said Tony. “We’re talking about how to help him. I was saying that a big thing you can do to help someone is to listen when they tell you what they need. One time I was very hurt and I wanted Burger King. And Aunt Pepper suggested we get something fancy instead because she was trying to be kind and helpful. And Uncle Happy pulled into a Burger King Drive through and opened the window and said, ‘Hey, I need four big Cokes two no ice, four large fries and four Double Whoppers with Cheese.’ Then he handed all the food back to me and said, ‘Go slow, don’t rush: we can reheat it at home.’” 

“Why no ice?” asked Edwin.

“If all four had ice the last two would have been watered down and flat by the time Daddy got to them,” said Happy, “but Daddy likes fountain soda more than the stuff in the can.”

“I don’t know the difference,” Edwin shrugged.

“That’s because soda isn’t very good for you so you don’t drink it often enough to know the difference,” said Tony. “Even though Aunt Pepper was acting out of kindness and with the very best of intentions, Uncle Happy did exactly the right thing and what I needed. And we were talking about that and Steve said he hadn’t tried Burger King so it was time for a Burger King feast and, as a Malibu boy, you’ve eaten at In-N-Out far more times than Burger King.”

“Burger King is better than In-N-Out,” said Edwin.

“Oh wow, it didn’t take long for you to go east coast on me, baby.”

Edwin just laughed. “Steve, did people like your mac and cheese?” 

“They did, thank you for asking, Win.” 

“Do you have class all day tomorrow or can we maybe have a tap lesson?” 

“In the morning, before you go out to lunch with Wade, we can have a tap lesson,” said Steve. “Unless I get pulled away by the Wounded Warrior Project.” 

“Okay, cool, thank you.” 

“You’re going out to lunch with Wade?” asked Tony.

Edwin nodded, “You’re very busy with your project so when I’m not in daycare everybody’s been taking very, very good care of me. Peter’s been helping in Bruce’s lab. But not more than his hours let him. Wade is taking me to Once Upon a Sandwich.”

“Yum,” said Tony.

“Do they have good sandwiches? I’ve seen it but not been,” said Clint.

“I never get a sandwich,” said Edwin. “Usually I have a sandwich at teatime with Nanny. They have great eggplant soup and different salads every single month and they have duck food.”

“What’s duck food?” asked Clint.

“It’s bags of seeds and grain and stuff that’s good for ducks, better than bread,” said Edwin. 

“When I was little,” said Tony, “Once Upon a Sandwich used to sell yesterday’s bread as duck bread. But then they found out that bread isn’t good for ducks, so they started making yesterday’s bread into the croutons and started selling actual duck food.” 

“When Daddy was little I used to take him to Once Upon a Sandwich for lunch and to get duck bread,” said Peggy. 

“The food is great, but the big draw is the duck bait,” agreed Tony, smiling at Clint. “It’s not just bait for the ducks; it pulls in the kids too.”

They talked about their plans and schedules, avoiding mentions of their friend. Bruce kept his head on Tony’s knee the whole time, snagging himself a cup of soda, checking the top to see what it is, “Diet Coke,” said Share.

“Perfect,” said Bruce, chugging some down. 

Share smiled, “When Steve asked Hulk for his vote he gave me a double yes. I didn’t know what he was voting on. He only gave Sam one yes.” 

“Sam doesn’t read stories on the playroom floor,” said Bruce. “Sam played with the boys, you read a story. That’s nicer.”

“He’s a sweet kid.”

“Hulk’s the best,” agreed Edwin. “You can have tea with me and Nanny when you aren’t on missions. When will you have a teddy?” 

“That’s up to Daddy,” she said.

“Daddy, my birthday is in five months, if I’m good, can I please have the Thirteenth Teddy.” 

“You’re so good at naming teddies, you have to clear that name for it to be official for its big release. But, yes, if you are good, you may have the Thirteenth Teddy for your birthday.” 

“Agent Thirteen is a weird superhero name,” said Share.

“Do you like it?” asked Peggy. “You loved it as a child, it’s the only name you ever wanted.” 

“I do,” she answered.

“Then explain it in the town hall and move on,” said Steve. “The purpose of the town halls is to give the public access to us, make them see us but also set boundaries. It’s a weird name. Tell them why you like it and move on.” 

“This town hall is going to be a mess,” said Phil, “we have to explain that SHIELD was partly Nazis but assure people we’re still okay.”

“It can’t be any worse than when Steve went off on that anti-vaxxer about the fact that his mom died of TB, and he doesn’t believe that anyone should be exempt except for medical reasons,” said ‘Tasha. 

“I stand by everything I said,” said Steve, reaching for more fries. “Crystals aren’t gonna do a damn thing to protect a child from measles and you’re a failure of a parent if you don’t give your child every chance to survive.”

Bruce nodded, “Yep, and you said that on TV. And now it’s a GIF. Lots of things I’ve said in town halls are GIFs. Town halls are meant to humanize us. Captain America likes vaccines because the TB one was too damn hard to get and now they’re ubiquitous and, if you don’t give them to your kids, you’re a bad person.”

“Let’s work on your suit, Share.” Tony pulled up a hologram of her usual SHIELD suit. He swiped away the insignia, and she groaned. “Nazis,” he replied. Then he pulled up the Strategic Scientific Reserve bird next to SHIELD’s and then put up a phoenix, making the design similar. “What about that? SHIELD is dead long live the Carter legacy?” 

“That’s pretty,” she agreed. 

“Does Agent Teddy get released now?” asked Edwin, holding up his bear. “Because he couldn’t be released when Agent was all secret and everything but now he’s boss of SHIELD and he’s been on the news.”

“Win, bud, no one wants my teddy,” said Phil. “I’m not a superhero.”

“Yes you are, you’re the boss superhero,” said Edwin. 

“I don’t have a supersuit,” replied Phil.

“You have business suits,” Edwin said, “they’re nice suits.”

“There’s a collector’s market for superhero merch,” said Tony. “Kids may or may not be interested in an affordable Agent Teddy but I think a fancy Agent Teddy would turn a profit with adult collectors. And, think of all of your superhero memorabilia on your floor. How cool would it be to have an Agent Teddy?”

Edwin held his own out, “He’s got a little coffee cup, sunglasses and suit.” He reached into the bear's tiny pocket and pulled out the bear’s itty bitty wallet, “But, his badge has his picture and a SHIELD logo. And SHIELD had Nazis. So, he might need a new wallet? Or maybe you want this one because you love SHIELD.” It had a photo of the bear on one side and a dime-sized SHIELD emblem on the other. The wallet’s leather hinge was worn as Edwin liked to pull it out and have Agent Teddy use it as a police badge to arrest his other teddies sometimes. A few times, he had even arrested the Iron Teddy when Tony had made Edwin eat something he wasn’t that interested in or made him have a time out.

“I love SHIELD,” Phil agreed, “I am folding as much of it into the UN as possible.”

“Maybe a UN emblem?” asked Tony, “I’ll need the UN’s permission. The Avengers will publicly be working for the UN, you’re publicly working for the UN. I’ll make your personal one with a SHIELD ID like Win’s but the market’s one with something else.” Edwin yawned. “I’m gonna tuck Win in and have a chat and a poem or two. You guys fill Bruce in on today’s mission.”

“Can I sleep in your bed?” asked Edwin.

Tony nodded, “Of course you may.”

“You can sleep in Daddy’s bed too, Bruce, I don’t mind cuddling with both of you.”

“Thank you,” said Bruce with a smile, straightening a little so he wouldn’t fall when Tony moved, “Sleep well, Win.”

“Night night, everyone,” said Edwin, waving over Tony’s shoulder as Tony carried him away. He yawned again into Tony’s shoulder. 

“Tired, baby?”

“Long day, what about you?”

“Pretty long day,” agreed Tony. “I will sleep well tonight.” Tony gathered up the bears Edwin needed while his son brushed his teeth. They went into the master bedroom, and Tony said, “So what are you making me?” 

“Beeswax,” said Edwin.

“Beeswax? I thought it was papier-mâché,” said Tony.

Edwin laughed, “No, Daddy, it’s a secret.”

“Is it a canoe?”

“No.”

“Is it a horse?”

“No.”

“Is it a functioning kidney?”

“Daddy,” Edwin giggled.

“An accurate scale model of the White House?”

“No, Daddy, stop guessing stuff,” said Edwin.

“Okay,” agreed Tony. Then he said, “Is it a Grammy Award for my shower rendition of Somewhere Over the Rainbow?” 

Ewin giggled, “No, Daddy.”

“Okay. Fine, I’ll stop guessing. But I feel the Grammys slighted me. It was political that I wasn’t nominated.” 

“They don’t nominate people for shower singing.”

“If Taylor Swift got a Grammy for shower singing you would take it seriously.”

“That’s because she would have earned it,” said Edwin, hugging the Iron Teddy close.

“Oh, I see, so Taylor’s shower singing makes the cut, got it. I’m sorry I’m not around much at the moment, baby, once I get done with this project, it’s life as normal. Okay?”

“I miss you, but it’s nice to have the whole family here and I know it’s not forever. But it’s fun that Aunt Share is moving in forever.”

“Right? How cool is that?”

“So cool. And her teddy will be so pretty.”

“I know.”

“Will you start working on it soon?”

“Once you’re all tucked in.”

“It’ll be ready in time for my birthday?”

“It will be.”

“What’s Sam’s superhero name?”

“Falcon.”

“Cool, I’m going to put him on my Christmas list.”

“Sam?” asked Tony, purposefully confused.

Edwin laughed, “No, silly, the Falcon Teddy.”

“Oh, I see,” said Tony. “Are you sure it’s not a canoe?”

“You don’t even like boats,” said Edwin. 

“Good point, must be a horse.”

“You don’t like big animals that aren’t in a zoo either,” said Edwin. 

“Not a big fan of the wild in general,” agreed Tony.

Edwin cuddled up to him, “Stop guessing, Daddy.”

“Okay, you ready for your poems?”

“Isn’t it funny how Aunt Share sewed the Iron Teddy’s armor and now she’s gonna get her own teddy?”

“Yeah, she started the super teddy line and now she’s getting a super teddy of her own, that’s crazy.”

“Crazy,” Edwin nodded. “I’m ready for poems.”

Tony went through both of theirs and said, “Y’want anyone else’s poem?”

Edwin thought about it and said, “‘Leave the Lab, Bruce’?”

“J, is Bruce around?” asked Tony.

“Yes, sir, he has changed out of his Hulk PJs and put on his own,” said JARVIS.

Edwin snuggled into the pillows, “JARVIS, please ask Bruce if he would mind tucking me in and hearing his poem.”

“He is on his way,” JARVIS said. 

Tony stroked his hair, “Is it a humidor?”

“What’s a humidor?” asked Edwin.

“A box you keep cigars in.”

“It’s not a humidor,” said Edwin.

Tony thought of several things but skipped them because they were possible. He didn’t want to guess a bumblebee, dragon, car, piñata or surfing man. “Is it a baby grand piano?”

“You don’t even play the piano we’ve got,” said Edwin. “Why would I make you another one?”

“Good point,” agreed Tony. “I sometimes play it.”

“Only at Christmas and when Nanny asks you to, I like it when you play.”

“Would you like it if I played more?”

“I like listening,” said Win. 

“Okay, I’ll play more,” said Tony. “How is big kid day care?”

Since the Barton children had left, Edwin’s Spanish had gotten so good, he had been transferred into a class with six-year-olds who had larger vocabularies. He would learn more, talk more just through playing, laughing, having fun. It was a good system. But Edwin sort of frowned. He looked at the Iron Teddy, “I’m trying to make friends. But it’s a little slow… they don’t like any of the same games as me. But I’m playing their games because I want them to like me. Ramon Lòpez is the coolest kid in class. He said I can pick the game soon. They play pretend, and not dress up pretend or toy pretend, just stupid pretend with no outfits or teddies to act out a story. I go to tea parties, I play house, I pretended to be a lion: a lion.” He spoke with disdain. “I do it all with a smile. But they don’t use their climbing frame or their monkey bars or any of their hopscotch boards or tumbling mats. And they never use their dress up box. But pretend without an outfit or a toy? It’s not pretending to crash into things. It’s all house, or ‘let’s cook dinner like chefs.’ I hate the play kitchen: there’s no aprons and it’s fake food.”

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“I’ll make friends soon. And once they like me, I’ll suggest hide and seek and good stuff. I hate playing pretend. Pretend tea parties are just… empty cups and air sandwiches. A tea party needs a real cup of tea and a little sandwich. But I smile and I try and I do my very best… I asked my teacher — Miss Libby — if I could go to my old class on one English day a week when I only go for playtime and story time and snack. But she said I should try and make friends in my new class and I am trying.” 

“I agree with Miss Libby; give it two weeks. If you’re still hating it, maybe we can try another class of big kids. There are other big kid classes.”

Bruce came in in normal-sized sweats, “Hey, science bros.”

“Hey, Bruce, would you like to hear your poem?” asked Edwin.

“I would love to,” he settled down on Edwin’s other side, careful of his teddies. 

Bruce made eye contact over Edwin’s head, and Tony felt himself fall in love with Bruce all over again. He wanted to put Edwin to bed together with this man forever. The man was relaxed and looked sleepy and soft and like he could melt into the mattress. If Tony could, he would lean over Edwin and kiss Bruce hello. It would be so easy: they could be just a little family. Edwin would be thrilled. It would be effortless to fall into a rhythm and family with Bruce… and there could be phenomenal sex when Edwin wasn’t in the bed.

Tony quietly said the words of Bruce’s poem and said, “I love you, Win, go to sleep.” 

Tony kissed him, and Bruce stroked his hair, “Sleep well, bud. We’ll be back later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! I would love to hear from you!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for the Avengers' friend continues. But, in the meantime, they have to hold a town hall meeting to introduce Sharon and Sam. They know it will be a shit show before they sit down.

Bruce’s head hurt, but it was nice to curl up next to Tony downstairs. Tony worked on Sharon’s new suit, a visor with an interface for Sam and teddy bears. He sent Sam a contract, and with a note that said he would get a different one from employers later. This one was about likeness rights. Again, it asked him to keep it to himself. 

Bruce mostly let it flow over him, happy to luxuriate in the feeling of the body next to him as they talked and Tony worked. It felt nice to relax with the team. With half an ear, he listened as Tony got filled in by Rhodey on some apparently fascinating details of Win’s situation in daycare. His brain was tired enough not to really follow. 

Still, Tony was magnetic. He was so beautiful when he was working. His whole face lit up as he manipulated images. He lit up as his hands flew around the holograms, moving things inventions as he literally built them out of thin air. He was loose in his movements, and his whole body moved as he worked. Seeing it close up was inspiring. The man had seemed manic when he’d seen him in press conferences and on TV talking about projects, but up-close Tony was a dancer.

Steve was finishing probably his eighth burger, “You ate this and it made you want to shut down the weapons department?”

“I had already wanted to, this just gave me the energy, JARVIS, pull up the weirdest press conference in history.” Tony seemed to think the footage was funny. No one else did. He pointed at a tall, imposing man. “That’s Obie. He sold my weapons to terrorists, ripped the arc reactor out of my chest, attempted to murder Pepper and was a pervert and eyed up Share when she was eleven.”

“Sharon, you never told me that,” said Peggy.

Sharon slapped Tony’s arm. “I dealt with it, Aunt Peg. Tony killed him anyway.”

“I didn’t kill him, I just didn’t save him,” said Tony.

Bruce touched Tony’s stomach, making sure he couldn’t count Tony’s ribs through his shirt. He was so fucking thin in the video. In real life, he was muscular and had a comfortable, healthy layer of fat — built like a physically fit person, not a superhero. He wasn’t built like Thor, Steve or even Clint. Tony jogged, boxed with Happy, swam and surfed. He was healthy, whole. He had the body of an athletic middle-aged dad, and Bruce liked touching him naked. He wasn’t sitting on his ass on a stage, wasn’t half-dead, wolfing down cheeseburgers looking insane and rambling semi incoherently. Tony linked their fingers together.

“Sitting on that stage was when I realized Iron Man wasn’t just the way I got out of the cave, he was the way to fix a lot of things… then I found out my ex was seven months up the spout and Iron Man was still the mission but not the top mission. I had to read all the top baby books, take a daddy boot camp, build a crib, paint a nursery and go to therapy to stop having panic attacks. I didn’t know I was gonna be a be a father in less than three months.” He used two fingers to shove a hologram over and said, “Share, check this out.”

The golden teddy bear was wearing her new suit. Sharon favored a catsuit like Natasha’s, but it was ice blue with tan piping. She also had a high-collared black puffy vest that looked like it came out of the LL Bean catalog, but Bruce had been told it was actually cutting edge top of the line Stark tech body armor. To him, it looked like Sharon was about to have a fight with someone called Linda about whose turn it was to bring snacks to soccer practice. The bear was wearing a perfect little version. The shoulder of the catsuit had the tiny phoenix sewn into in red. It had two black gun belts crossed around the waist. But instead of them being gun belts, the holsters were tiny pockets with snap closures so kids could carry around their treasures in the bear’s purses for safekeeping.

Sharon smiled, “Tony, that’s adorable. I love it.”

“You sewed the Iron Teddy’s armor. Twice. Now you’re getting your own. You really like it?”

“It’s so cute.”

As a real suit, along with the gun belts, she had quick-release shoulder holsters and one on her right thigh. She had two on the outside of her ankles and knives strapped to the inside of her ankles. She also had a knife strapped to her left forearm and another to the small of her back. The puffy vest also acted as an ammo bag that somehow didn’t blow up when she got shot. 

Looking at her suit, Tony said, “I feel you need a better weapon. You have six guns and quite a few clips and four knives. Clips run out; knives need you to be close. That’s fine when you’re a spy and on HYDRA runs but I want you to have a distance weapon for aliens, for Doom bots, for supervillains.”

“Well,” she smiled, “I always liked your gauntlets. Not the suit but the gauntlets.”

He nodded, “I need to get rid of your ankle gear and back knife but sure. One blast with a gauntlet, your body can take it, using them as a constant weapon, you need a spine brace. I can build in a very streamlined, very comfortable brace, it would go wrist, shoulder, collar, down your back right to your boots.”

“Tony, I was joking. You don’t let anyone have your tech,” she said.

“I let Rhodey have it,” he said. “Brother,” he pointed to Rhodey, then he pointed to her, “cousin. But I won’t actually give it to you because that’s a tax nightmare. It’s on permanent loan. You want red specked with gold beams to match your phoenix or ice blue to match your suit?”

“Phoenix. I love it, Tones, I love it.”

“Okay,” he added it to the design quickly. “This is aesthetic, I’ll do the real work later,” He added them to the teddy. “I’m happier with you with gauntlets, I will train you in them. They are a mighty pain to handle without the suit. Rhodey can help if I’m busy.”

He sent the specs for her weight, height and hand dimensions to the fabricator to build her her own repulsors. He would make her actual gauntlets and brace tomorrow. “J, did you buy cooking things for our friend? He had spatulas and ladles and pans and sauce pans. He cooks. He needs cooking things. Not fancy, but nice, good quality Target stuff. We can upgrade once he likes us and feels comfortable. I don’t overwhelm him. I’ve bought nice shit in Target at two in the morning. It’s serviceable and aesthetically pleasing.”

“I ordered them when you spoke about his wooden spoons,” said JARVIS, “a mix of Rachel Ray’s Every Day, OXO, KitchenAid, NutriChef and salt and pepper shakers that at very cute and shaped like Mickey and Minnie.” 

“Perfect,” said Tony. He turned the new hologram and pushed it to her. “There you go, Share.”

“Wow, I’m getting a superhero weapon.”

“Glad you like it.” Bruce arched his back to stay awake, and Tony said, “You falling asleep, handsome?”

“Sorry, the drugs Hulk takes are a huge help but when I take them in the evening I’m drowsy.”

“What are Hulk and Win making?”

“I don’t know and even if I did Hulk would be livid in the morning during yoga if I told you,” said Bruce.

“Rhodey, what am I getting?”

Rhodey shook his head, “I made promises.”

“‘Tasha?”

“Nope,” she replied. 

Bruce rested his head on Tony’s shoulder. “Y’wanna go up to bed?” asked Tony.

Bruce nodded, “Tomorrow you gotta build Sharon’s gauntlets, design Sam’s bear and we have a ton of work to do for our friend.”

Tony stood, guiding Bruce up by his elbow, “He’s about to pass out. Good night, everyone,” said Tony. Bruce was out of it enough that he wasn’t sure who Tony was saying was about to pass out. Tony led him to the elevator instead of the stairs. “There’s a little kid who is very pro cuddling his dad and his science bro fast asleep who can sleep like the dead. We can have a conversation in the room. He won’t wake up. It’s both great and worrying. He could be kidnapped so easily.”

Bruce was rapidly coming to think of the master bedroom as their room. Hulk had his rooms a couple of floors down, but this was becoming their room, one that all four of them shared. He really needed Tony to reinforce the bed, just in case he had a nightmare and Hulk got scared. He stripped off his t-shirt and kicked off his flip-flops as Tony stripped out of his clothes down to his boxers. “I would be naked because I don’t equate nudity with sex. But I always tell Win that nudity is only okay if everyone is okay with it.” Win was starfished over the bed. Tony moved his teddies to his far side. They were lumpy to sleep on. Tony crawled into bed and, as Bruce join him, he pulled Bruce’s arm around himself. “I could fall asleep like this forever.”

Bruce kissed the back of his neck, “Me, too. Go to sleep, beautiful.” Bruce snuggled into him, enjoying the lines of Tony’s body against his own. He stroked Tony’s abdomen and finally allowed himself to fall asleep.

Soft voices woke him, “It’s not a Spanish day on Friday, so I’m not going to stay for reading, or writing, or math. And I know that your big project is very, very big and very, very important but Physics Weekly comes out Friday. So maybe?”

It was the first time Bruce had ever heard Win not stumble over the word “physics.” He was growing up. It was weird to watch a kid grow up. He didn’t have much experience with kids. He’d never expected to be a father. After his childhood, he had always assumed he would be bad at it. But he liked taking care of Win. He enjoyed helping Win with projects, with getting dressed, with cooking. He wanted to take care of Win; he just couldn’t believe it was part of his life now. And Win was pronouncing physics. 

“I can take the afternoon off, just me and you in the playroom? We could read it in your clubhouse. Or you, me and Bruce in the lab?”

“In the lab, so the bots can listen too,” said Win.

“Butterfingers loves it when you read to him,” said Tony.

“I know he does,” agreed Win. 

“Today’s not a Spanish day, right?”

“No, today is the forth Monday of the month; I don’t go to daycare today.” 

Bruce knew it was usually the day Tony took the day off, and he heard the other man give a tiny sigh, but Win didn’t notice. “I’m gonna patrol the labs. I’m gonna go all over all the halls for the top ten floors on my Big Wheels. Steve’s gonna give me a tap lesson, and Wade’s taking me to lunch and to feed the ducks, and Nanny said we’d have a lovely tea.”

“That sounds amazing,” said Tony. “Friday, why don’t we order some pizza for Physics Weekly and have a little pizza party? We’ll wear hats and have some music.”

“Party hats and Physics Weekly?”

“I can’t guarantee Bruce will want to wear one, but you, me and the bots.”

“That would be fun.”

“Why don’t we try to get a little more sleep?”

“Ten minutes and then I’m getting up,” said Win.

Bruce very gently pressed his body into Tony’s and breathed in the scent of his neck. A few minutes later, he felt Tony shifting away from him, and he wanted to protest, but he felt more movement and cracked an eyelid. Win was literally stepping over Tony to be between them. He cuddled up to Bruce and spoke in a hushed voice, “It’s almost yoga time.” 

“I know,” agreed Bruce.

“Say hi and tell him I won’t work on your present without him?”

“Okay,” agreed Bruce, stroking his hair.

“I have to pee and I’m awake,” Win climbed over him and left the room. 

Bruce moved back to Tony and kissed the back of his neck, “It’s yoga time. I’ll see you in the lab, beautiful.”

“Thank you for cuddling, handsome.”

“I loved it,” Bruce kissed his neck again. “See you in the lab. And I’ll wear and a hat Friday.” Bruce got out of bed and pulled his shirt on. Tony rolled; there were lines on his face, an imprint of a teddy on his peck. “You’re so pretty; get another twenty minutes sleep. Sleep, beautiful, seriously.”

He padded through the penthouse and went to the elevator, which opened for him. He pressed the button for his floor and said, “Morning, JARVIS, how are you doing?”

“I’m well, Doc. How are you?”

“Madly in love with your father and youngest brother,” said Bruce, leaning against the wall.

“I do hope you’re fond of me as well,” said JARVIS.

“I adore you and the triplets,” Bruce smiled.

“You didn’t need to mention to the triplets.”

Bruce laughed, “You love the triplets.”

“I’d be lost without my older brother… DUM-E’s my constant… He’s still obnoxious. Butterfingers and U follow his lead.” 

“You five need a sister.”

“Master Edwin is the youngest. I don’t think he would do well as an older sibling. Also, unless Master Edwin tells us that the doctors were wrong is saying he was a boy, I don’t think our family needs any girls.”

“Master Edwin?” repeated Bruce as the doors opened to his floor. “I don’t think I have ever heard you call him Edwin.”

“When Sir and I talk alone we refer to him as ‘Edwin.’ It’s his name. Sir picked his name for a reason. It’s a nice name. I like it. So I’m calling him Master Edwin in front of you too. Because I get to make those choices.”

“You have weird protocols when it comes to names.” Bruce put a mug in his coffee machine, and JARVIS immediately started brewing his tea.

He swore JARVIS sighed, “Take for instance, Agent Romanoff. When she is looking for Master Edwin, I say to him, ‘Your Aunt ‘Tasha is looking for you.’ But just because I use his nickname does not mean I am actually calling her that.”

“What would you say his name is?” Bruce asked, getting yogurt from his fridge.

“Children choose their form of address,” replied JARVIS.

Bruce laughed, “Bullshit, you met him when he was seconds old.”

“He was thirteen hours old when he came home,” JARVIS replied.

“What is his name in your mind?” Bruce added raisins and almonds to his yogurt. 

“There are designations before names, the base. Baby, that’s what he is. He’s Baby. Then any variation of Edwin Anthony Stark, he is changeable. It’s completely appropriate for me to call him Master Edwin to you. You’re in.”

Bruce laughed. He ate his granola and drinking his tea, rolling his head on his neck and sighed, “What is my designation? The base?”

“The base of most people is their formal address for instance, Agent Barton. He is first and foremost Agent Barton. His first name comes into it as second level of information. You are Dr. Bruce Banner.” 

A hologram popped up, Win, as a toddler, wearing a Cars themed wetsuit on the beach, playing with a Lightening McQueen bucket and spade. “When I grow up, Imma be a race car driver… and Dr. Bruce Banner.” 

A smiling holographic Tony was lounging next to him on the sand. He was staring out at the sea; his legs were stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed. He was propped up on his elbows, clearly totally relaxed. He chuckled and said, “A race car driver and Dr. Bruce Banner, huh?” Win nodded enthusiastically, not looking away from the sand he was scooping into his pail. “Dr. Bruce Banner is a new one. That’s cool. He’s cool. I’m glad you liked his papers. He came up with some pretty neat stuff, huh?” Win nodded and grinned at Tony. “That’s gonna be a lot of work. Being a race car driver and Dr. Bruce Banner means getting a lot of sleep, eating a lot of vegetables, playing nicely with other kids and always trying your best, okay?”

Win grinned and nodded. He dumped his sand out.

“You making a castle?” asked Tony.

Win shook his head, “Pile.”

“A sand pile is good too,” agreed Tony, smiling lazily and craning his neck back toward the sunshine.

The holograph disappeared, “Dr. Bruce Banner,” said JARVIS. “At the base level, you get three names. You have always had three names. You were his dream job as a toddler. You had three names before you were a person to me.”

“That’s adorable,” said Bruce.

“He always has been,” agreed JARVIS. Bruce rinsed his cup and bowl and placed them in the dishwasher. 

“I meant both of them together. It’s yoga time, JARVIS,” he stripped as he walked toward his yoga mats and swing. JARVIS started up his white noise. “Thank you.” 

Over the next couple of weeks, life was quiet. They got the new Avengers set up, Bruce got his new contract from the UN. He got a twenty-dollar a pay raise. Tony checked everyone’s contracts twice. Sam moved in. Sharon brought two duffle bags. They had a pizza party with Win reading Physics Weekly with the three of them and the robots wearing hats. Win was still not having fun at daycare. The books were still horrifying. BARF was being tweaked a million times a day. It was nice to have the break with just the three of them. 

Town hall meetings were always a shit show. Tony went out, entering with his usual double peace signs, “Good morning, my family-founded government agency — SHIELD — had Nazis in it. We say it a lot upstairs, Nazis. It’s therapeutic to say it out loud and frequently: Nazis. They hid inside the agency until my Aunt Peggy left D.C. They were too afraid to make a move while Director Peggy Sousa still lived in D.C. when she moved here to be with me and Win they made a move. Nazis shredded a government agency from the inside. It was built by my father’s check, my Uncle Daniel’s sweat and my Aunt Peg’s brains and it was poisoned from day one by HYDRA. Natasha Romanoff dumped all of SHIELD’s highly classified details onto the internet. It was the only way to flush out Nazis. It also put a lot of good people in danger. So the CIA, FBI, UN and International Intelligence Agencies are working on it. Today, the Avengers are introducing you to two new wonderful team members. One of them is Captain America’s friend from Veterans Affairs. The other is my baby cousin who wanted to be a SHIELD agent from the age of two and was a SHIELD agent until it imploded.” 

He did full introductions, making people laugh. And then he said, “During the town hall meetings the Avengers have always called Agent Phil Coulson 'Boss’ or ‘Agent’ for privacy. He was an active agent. He got burned in the SHIELD dump he is now handling merging what is left of SHIELD into the UN. He is the highest ranking SHIELD agent but SHIELD doesn’t exist because SHIELD had Nazis in it. Say it three or four times a day, Nazis, real, actual Nazis are active. We have actual Nazis active in America. I am doing everything I can to help the Avengers fight Nazis. I am still not an Avenger. But it is my great pleasure to introduce you to the two new Avengers, Sargent Sam Wilson and Agent Sharon Carter, and their boss, Agent Phil Coulson.” The three of them walked out. “And, of course, here’s the rest of the gang and the anger button.” 

The other Avengers walked out. After so many town halls, they were relaxed; it was old hat now. Thor was holding up the anger button as though it were a ceremonial object. Tony laughed, “For our three new contestants, you’re supposed to let the public get to know you; you aren’t their punching bag: use the anger button liberally. You don’t have to answer overly personal or rude questions.”

They started in, and things were taking their usual weird fucking turns. The anger button was being used a lot. Sharon said, “Eww, can I use the anger button for someone on the internet?”

“You’re not supposed to be on your phone,” said Phil. 

She nodded, “I know, but I was also told to be more relaxed and I have a problem with needing to be constantly in the loop so I’m watching what people are saying online. I want to use the anger button on the internet.”

“We call that the comment section,” said Tony. 

“Sam,” she said, “we’re diversity hires. According to the internet, we are diversity hires. You’re Black and I’m a woman. It couldn’t possibly be that I’m a good agent and you’re one of the only people on earth who can fly the wings.”

“If we were diversity hires, surely, the Avengers could have found someone less blonde than you,” said Sam. “If they wanted diversity, you should be a woman of color. If they want to be angry, go for nepotism: your last name is Carter.”

She nodded, “I learned to walk in the Triskelion… which Nazis blew up. That’s nepotism. Peggy Carter and Daniel Sousa raised me from when I was two.” JARVIS put up a picture of her at three and Tony at fifteen. She was in a pants suit. Bruce had seen it before; Tony had it framed upstairs. “That was my spy outfit. People thought I was a business lady. I would tell them I was a spy. They thought it was so funny.” She looked back at her phone, “There are also some assholes who are calling my beloved cousin, my family, a condescending misogynist.”

“I mean, historically,” Tony shrugged, “I have no problem with that characterization.”

“It’s because you called me sweetheart and honey at different points,” said Sharon. “Which you call me all the time because you call family terms of endearments all the time. And I will direct anyone who wants to insult my cousin for the way he speaks to me to that picture,” she pointed at it. “My family is everything. I have been a deep cover spy since my first day at SHIELD. I don’t have friends only my family knows me.”

“I find you fascinating,” said Clint.

“Why?” asked Sharon.

“I worked with you for nine years, nine years. We worked long deep cover missions. I have lived in houses with cover stories as your husband for months. And until the day after New York was attacked and Win introduced us to his Aunt Sharon, I had absolutely no idea what your name was. Peggy was one of my two mentors and I had no idea she had a niece she raised. You were just Agent Thirteen. I knew your name wasn’t Georgia but it was the only name I ever had for you.”

She nodded, “I wanted to be a spy since I was two; I wanted to be deep cover since I was ten. Aunt Peggy and Uncle Daniel were very supportive of that. I speak fourteen languages; I know twelve forms of unarmed combat; I can play six musical instruments; I can handle any weapon put in my hand; I can pass as a classically trained chef; I can fly a plane; fix a car; ride a horse; sail a boat; I was trained in code breaking by a woman who worked at Bletchley Park. And I could do all of that before I graduated college. I was trained for deep cover before I ever got my SHIELD ID. No one who wasn’t at least level nine was ever supposed to know my actual name. I was supposed to be Georgia, Agent Thirteen.” 

“What does Agent Thirteen mean? Why thirteen?” asked Clint.

“Thirteen colonies,” said Sharon. “When I was little, I was very distressed by the fact that everyone had roles except me. Howard was a checkbook. Aunt Maria was a networking god who could invite anyone to dinner and get them in front of Peg. Uncle Daniel was a feminist who left a good agent position at the Strategic Scientific Reserve to be his wife’s subordinate in her brand new intelligence agency. Mr. Jarvis was a great cook and Mrs. Jarvis kept everything on track. Tony was off somewhere getting drunk and having sex and opted out on purpose. And I just felt very left out because everyone who wanted a role had one and I was very little and didn’t have a role. And Uncle Daniel said, ‘You’re the thirteenth colony. We got here first, but you’re coming down the pipeline kiddo. SHIELD isn’t done growing, you’re the thirteenth colony, you’re Georgia — we’re not a country without you.’ I am Georgia and SHIELD wasn’t really SHIELD until I walked in on my first day, not according to my aunt or uncle.” 

“I hear so many nice stories about Agent Sousa,” said Clint. Sharon nodded. “He always scared the shit out of me and I don’t think I ever saw him smile once.”

“He was very exacting when it came to his work and the work of people reporting to him,” she nodded. “Big ol’ marshmallow all the rest of the time.”

“I never worked for him,” said Tony, “so he was never anything but sweet and kind to me.” 

They talked a lot about Sam’s career and his wings, and his friendship with Steve and how great it would be for him to be closer to his mom. He rhapsodized about flying, he talked about the Air Force, about how he was still going to be volunteering at the VA. Sam was relaxed and had his arm resting on the back of Steve’s chairs as he talked. 

Steve said, “I had been out of the ice only a couple of weeks when aliens came out of the sky and I was put in charge of the Avengers. I wasn’t… afterward, when we were eating together… I guess Tony saw something, because he said, ‘Shellshock is called PTSD nowadays and it’s not called a lack of moral fiber, it’s a medical condition. No one is gonna tell you to be a man and keep your head down. We have treatment; doctors can help you.’ I was shocked by that. In my day, you just got on with it. You didn’t talk about it. So I went to the VA and met Sam who was working at the desk and went down a checklist to do paperwork and said, ‘This is textbook PTSD.’ Then he gave me some great advice about not doing pushups if I hate pushups, going to support groups, making friends, watching Twilight Zone.” 

“I’m not a doctor,” said Sam, “it’s just a checklist but when someone ticks off pretty much every single box you can say, definitively, it’s PTSD. It’s like if you see a car imbedded in a wall; you don’t need to be a mechanic to know that the driver can’t drive it home.” 

Steve laughed. “My doctor is still saying that it’s unclear if it’s caused by the fact that I fought in the bloodiest war in history, that I watched Bucky plummet from the train, that I watched Red Skull rip his own face off and fought the magic Nazis, that I crashed a plane on purpose or that I woke up in the wrong millennium in civilian life without any form of reintegration.”

“You took a lot of hits in a few years, man. Give yourself a break, do what the doctor says, go to your support groups.”

Steve nodded, “Brace yourself for living with me, Sometimes there are young vets drunk in the living room, sometimes there are ninety-year-olds. My generation drinks harder but goes home sooner.”

Sam just laughed. “I told my mom about this and she said, ‘I like Steve he’s so responsible and respectable.’ And I thought, ‘She’s seen Steve on TV.’” 

Steve just laughed.

Win came into the room. During one other town hall, he had come out and quietly walked across the stage, down the stairs and to the back of the line for questions. Tony had asked what he was doing, and Win had said, “Well, when we did this the first time, no one took it seriously and it hurt Steve’s feelings. I have a question and it can’t wait until after because JARVIS needs to do something before you’re gonna be done but I can wait my turn.” 

Steve had started to apologize for the last meeting, but Tony had said, “No, Steve, Win’s making a good point. It did hurt your feelings. We didn’t take it seriously. This time he doesn’t have a knife and doesn’t need an orange peeled. As it’s a question, he should wait in line. Waiting for a turn is a good thing.”

When Win had gotten to the front, he said that JARVIS was going to put their grocery order in in the next twenty minutes, and he wanted lamb kabobs for dinner. Tony had pulled up the grocery list on a floating hologram and switched things around, sorting things out for the week. Win had skipped out of the room, going back to the labs.

This time he didn’t go down to the question line. Instead, he looked distraught. “Baby, what’s wrong?” said Tony, pushing back from the table. 

“Ramon Lòpez?”

“The coolest six-year-old in daycare?” asked Tony.

“He said I could pick the game today.”

“That’s a good thing, you’ve been looking forward to that,” said Tony.

“I said I wanted to play hide and seek. I told him ages and ages ago that I was gonna pick hide and seek. And I haven’t been allowed to pick the game once since I started in the class five whole weeks ago. He knew I was gonna pick hide and seek. And he said that was okay. But today, he said he doesn’t like hide and seek. And you can’t make people play games they don’t like. Because everyone owns their own body and their own time. So he told me to think of another game and I was about to say hopscotch but then he said I was taking too long to decide so I lost my turn and then he said we were gonna have another tea party,” Win broke down into tears. “I couldn’t take another fucking tea party. So I said I had to go to an R&D meeting.”

“Okay, okay, come here,” Tony said, arms open. He pulled Win to him, rocking him, “Okay, we tried the big kid class. It is not working out. They play nothing but pretend. It’s not a good mix. And, y’know what? We’re just, we’re just gonna call it a day. You’ll go back to regular daycare with your friends who play on the climbing frame and use the dress up box and like coloring and tag. I know that we liked the idea of you learning more Spanish from the big kids but we’ll just have Spanish days up in the penthouse. Two days a week nothing but Spanish. Steve’s Spanish could use work too. I don’t know how Sam’s is. Everyone else is fluent. We’ll just speak Spanish and you’ll learn it that way and just be with your friends again. I’ll talk to the teachers this evening. I’m sorry Ramon didn’t let you pick the game. That was a mean trick. But, we’re gonna go upstairs, you’ll put on a princess dress. I’m sure the Avengers have some ice cream on one of their training floors that we can have and we’ll watch the worst Cars movie without me complaining even once.”

“Cars Two?”

“Yep, I won’t make a single disparaging comment for all of Cars Two.”

“I have ice cream that is strawberry cheesecake with peanut butter cookie dough bits,” said Natasha.

“How does that sound?” said Tony.

“Really good,” said Win, nodding, sniffing. 

“Good, great call on citing an R&D meeting. I do it all the time. There are so many R&D meetings no one ever knows if it’s a lie or the truth. I go to eight a week. I delegate so many more to Bruce.”

Win nodded, “I go to at least four sometimes six if they sound interesting.”

Tony nodded, “When you started in that class, did Miss Libby introduce you and ask you to tell the class what games you like?” Win nodded. “Have you played even one of those games in the last five weeks?”

“No, all they play is pretend. And pretend is the worst game. They don’t wear outfits. It’s not dress up and it’s not toys with stories it’s just house and tea parties and pet shop and it’s just awful. I hate pretend so much. But I wanted them to like me so I tried really hard. We didn’t even color. No coloring for five weeks.” His voice raised in volume and pitch before going back to crying.

Tony nodded, cuddling him and rocking him, “Okay, okay. Let’s go get Aunt Tasha’s ice cream and we’ll watch Cars Two in the theater once you’re in a costume.”

“I’m gonna wear my race car driver outfit.” Win said between sniffs, trying to get himself together.

“Good idea, I’ll get the ice cream, you go change.”

“I’ll pay Uncle Happy for the F word,” said Win quietly.

“I feel that was a totally justified use of the F word because I couldn’t have handled another tea party either. But you will have to talk it over with him, he owns it so he decides that.”

“It’s an empty cup and an empty plate!” said Win. “It’s the stupidest game in the world. Tea is great. Playing tea party sucks.”

“I know, baby. Come on. JARVIS, call hotels, see who does afternoon tea, and make a reservation for Peg, Share and us for this weekend. We’ll have real with cakes, and tarts, and little choux buns, and sandwiches and scones with clotted cream and jam. A whole fancy tea and there won’t be any empty cups or empty plates.” 

Tony walked out with a visibly calmer Win. “I’ll say this for Ramon Lòpez, the coolest six-year-old in daycare,” said Natasha. “Five weeks is an impressively long-term long con. He had to convince a whole room of six-year-olds to not play any games other than pretend, or even color, for five weeks just to mess with the new kid. For a six-year-old? That’s a successful hostile takeover.”

“Who messes with the kid who has his name on the building?” asked Steve.

“His name isn’t on the building,” said Sharon. “Edwin is on the building. Win is just a little kid in a big kid class. What they call ‘the big kid class’ is kindergarten. Kindergartners had some little kid in the class. And Win is a weird little kid. I adore my nephew and I think the ways he’s a weirdo are what make him so awesome. I think that those characteristics are why his friends who like him. He talks like a grown up. He’s smarter than his father. He understands advanced physics and math and learns at a shocking speed. He’s almost inhumanly empathetic while remaining so guileless that he didn’t realize he was being conned for five weeks. Win projects natural victim because kids can tell he doesn’t hit back. He shares in a way that makes him easy to take advantage of. He doesn’t have much of an imagination for pretend play. He likes outfits but he likes an outfit just to wear or to fit what he’s doing. Baking with Steve: chef’s whites. Ballet lessons with ‘Tasha: ballet outfit. Formal event: tuxedo. Monkey bars: tutu. Playing house: shoot him in the head ’cause there is no outfit for just pretending to be part of a family. Math, science, reading, climbing, art, trampoline, even stories for his teddy bears are easy; playing house is so hard and boring because there are no outfits or toys — it’s just pretend. Without something concrete he is screwed.”

Clint was looking at his hands. “In the info dump, there is some information that I didn’t want out there. It’s buried so deeply it’s going to take weeks for it to get out there. But it’s gonna get out. SHIELD helped me cover some important stuff for years. JARVIS spotted it in the info weeks before anyone else ever could. My very pregnant wife and two kids came here for a couple of weeks while Tony updated the security at home so it’s all on the same system as here and the Malibu house. JARVIS and the Iron Legion are protecting them now. Though, Laura and the kids are moving in with me in the Avenger’s living quarters so that we’re together when baby Nate comes. Having the info out there means that I am not sneaking off when I go home every weekend. In a perfect world, I never leave home, nor do my children or wife; we stay home and just hang out. In the real world: I go home every weekend and about one week every other month.”

“With two other Avengers, I feel like you can get away at least one or more week a month,” said Sam. “Having seen how beautiful the Avengers’ living space is, why don’t they move in?”

“Two hundred acre farm with a house built in the early nineteen hundreds,” said Clint. “You think the Avengers’ living space is nicer than that? It’s lovely but it’s not that idyllic location. My kids aren’t Win. They really liked Win, because they aren’t the coolest kids in daycare. But they aren’t cool, urbane kids. They’re country: my son has helped a cow calve by himself.” He smiled, “Poor Win played tea party with my daughter and Hulk.”

“I don’t think he did,” said Steve. “Every time I heard them talking about a tea party, they talked about what they were going to be eating. She had iced tea. He and Hulk drank regular tea they had cake or sandwiches. They didn’t play tea party; they had tea while they all wore tiaras. They also cut the brakes on tricycles and greased the wheels. Your youngest and Win were a match made in heaven… or possibly hell. When I saw Win in a tank top covered in some sort of black grease and holding pillars it was just a little Tony wandering around.”

Clint laughed, “They were having a whale of a time. Still can’t believe neither of them knocked out a tooth playing. All they got was a scraped knee, a scraped elbow and a scraped up chin.”

“Why cut the brakes?” asked Sam. “Why not just not use them?”

“Apparently just having them installed slows down the tricycle down by six percent: Win did the calculations,” said Clint. “They were flying and cackling.” 

“I still can’t believe baby Nate isn’t baby Natasha,” said Natasha.

“The doctor got it wrong and I’m sorry we got your hopes up,” said Clint.

“Did you settle on Nathan or Nathanial?” asked Sam.

“We’ve decided we are going to decide that when we are holding him,” said Clint. “I like Nathan but Laura gets the final say because Laura is growing him, will give birth to him and spends far more time with our kids than I do. Laura gets the final say.” 

“You’re waiting to pick his name until he’s here?” asked Phil.

Clint shook his head, “We picked a name: Natasha. I dragged all of my daughter’s baby dresses out of the attic. Baby Natasha had a name. What baby Nate’s legal name is comes after repacking dresses and unpacking and washing my son’s baby clothes. I’m concerned about number of fingers and toes not my kid’s genitalia or legal name.”

“Win lives in dresses,” said Sharon.

“Win made the choice to live in dresses,” Clint said. “Nate will be in onesies with teddy bears and sailboats for a while then baby overalls until he starts picking his outfits. At which point, if he dives into his sister’s dress up box that’s cool, good for him.”

“Do babies still wear overalls?” asked Sharon. “Isn’t that old fashioned?”

“Cooper wore them eight years ago so Nate’s going to wear them now. Maybe they are out of fashion but they were in the attic and are still cute.”

“There are Hawkeye onesies, my friend,” said Thor. “The clothes for babies in Midgard are very odd. All babies in Asgard wear comfortable gowns and young children wear tunics. Easy, comfortable, suited for purpose.”

“Laura has a problem with branding on our baby, it was a whole thing,” said Clint. “He has multiple Black Widow onesies. But when I showed her the Hawkeye one Laura just laughed and said no.”

“Really?” said Sam. “You didn’t try to talk her around?”

“My wife is currently making life. She has done it twice already. Her answer was no. We move on,” said Clint.

“Should we take another question?” asked Sam.

“No,” said Bruce. “No, this is your first town hall. We are off the rails. If we let someone ask a question it’s gonna be racist about you, nepotism-related about Sharon, spiteful about Win crying or accusing Clint of lying for protecting his family. No, we are off questions. Now we just let the cameras roll and talk amongst ourselves to show how human and approachable we are. We’ve gotten to the point when things fall apart.”

“Actually, Doc?” said JARVIS.

“Yeah?” said Bruce.

“There is a young child who had raised his hand.”

“Oh, we’ll certainly take a question from a child,” said Natasha. 

A little Black boy looked very nervous but step up to the microphone, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Natasha said, “What’s your name?”

“Mark,” he said.

“Hi, Mark. What’s your question?”

“Will there be a Falcon teddy?”

Sam grinned, “Yeah, there is. Sharon and Phil are getting ones too, but mine is much, much cooler. JARVIS, can you help me out, man?”

The Falcon teddies came up on a huge projection. “They should be out in five weeks,” said Sam. “Also PJs and shampoo. Dress up stuff around Christmas time.” He started pointing out the cool visor and wings. The teddies were darker than most of the other superhero teddies available. JARVIS put up a picture of Sam in his actual gear.

“I have the fancy teddy of the Machine,” said Mark.

Sam smiled, “That’s really cool. It’s important to have superheroes — and teddies — who look like you. Most superheroes don’t look like you and me. Some of that is because the X-Men are all genetically super and that gene is related to being Jewish and most people who are Jewish don’t look like us. The Luke Cage teddy is pretty cool.”

“He’s just a teddy in a yellow t-shirt and a hoodie,” protested Mark.

“He’s bigger than most of the teddies and it’s pretty rare to find a teddy in a hoodie. I think he’s cool.”

“Are you excited to be an Avenger?”

“Yeah,” Sam smiled, “it’s very exciting. I’m going to miss my job at the VA. I helped men and women in the army, and the navy and the air force get back to feeling normal. I’m gonna miss that. But I know that very few people can fly those wings well and I know that a lot of people can do my job at the VA very well. And I really like hanging out with my buddy Steve and all of his really nice friends. They have become my friends now too. So I’m going to volunteer at the VA and kick butt with the Avengers.” He smiled again. “Any other questions, Mark?” The little boy shook his head. “Well, it was really nice talking to you. And I’m sorry we swear a lot up on this stage.”

“That’s okay, my daddy swears at the TV when politicians come on,” Mark smiled.

“I’m glad we didn’t teach you any new words,” said Sam with a smile.

Mark was young enough to skip away; it made Bruce smile to watch him. Sam said, “Sharon and Phil also have teddies, the Thirteenth Teddies and Agent Teddies.” Projections appeared. “Sharon has PJs and shampoo too, the whole superhero set. We’re going to get whole toy lines but teddies, shampoo and PJs come first. I don’t think Phil does yet.”

“Stark just likes to razz me. There is no need for an Agent Teddy. The Starks treat me like the punchline. They pretended my first name was Agent for two years. They have as many ‘Agent Coulson’ jokes as most people have redneck jokes: Agent could defuse a bomb before he could walk. Agent’s first words were, ‘On my desk in triplicate by COB.’ Agent is an android who uninstalled his personality to make space to upload more patriotism. Agent’s birth certificate was redacted. Agent drank coffee from his sippy cup. Agent’s only cuddly toys were a Cap doll and an SSR bird and his blankie was an American flag.”

Steve broke down, laughing, “Okay, but, did you have a Cap doll? Because, y’know, you seem…”

“SHIELD might have fallen but I’m still your boss,” Phil said.

Steve nodded, “Absolutely, sir, but did you?”

“Steve, you’re obnoxious,” replied Phil. “But Captain America is awesome. And, yeah, I had a stuffed Cap.” Steve started laughing again. “I liked you so much more before I knew you.”

“JARVIS, please, please tell me you can find this,” said Steve. A picture of a very toothy Phil, maybe four years old, popped up, wearing a bad, bad 1970’s Captain America Halloween costume, holding a Captain America doll. “Oh, that’s adorable.”

“I forgot how much Halloween costumes sucked when we were kids,” said Bruce. 

“JARVIS, sometimes we are not friends,” said Phil.

“Really, Agent Coulson? I’ve always thought incredibly highly of you,” said JARVIS, completely deadpan, making all of the Avengers laugh.

“Where did you get this?” asked Phil.

“Your sister’s Facebook,” said JARVIS. 

“You are Skynet,” said Phil.

“The survivors of the nuclear fire called the war Judgment Day,” said Jarvis, quoting the film. “They lived only to face a new nightmare, the war against the Machines. The day JARVIS showed pictures of the Avengers being cute and young.” There was a picture of a very young Clint covered in a melted popsicle; Sharon in a princess nightgown and tiara; Bruce in college, clearly on a four-day research bender looking confused with hair that made Einstein’s look neat. “Here’s a fun game.” Two pictures of almost identical little boys flashed up, both in black and white. They could have been identical twins who didn’t actually match. “I made one low-res: which one is Sir and which is Master Win?”

“Wowza, Win really is the spitting image of his dad,” said Steve.

“Win’s eyebrows are thicker and his cheekbones aren’t as fine,” said Sharon. 

The pictures disappeared, “Miss Sharon, you ruined the game. And for that, you get a second picture,” said JARVIS. He flashed up a picture of her in a lavender ball gown.

“I looked good at my Junior prom,” she said. 

“I know, I love you so you get pretty pictures even when you ruin my fun spot-the-difference game. Here’s a few more.” A not-that-great illustration from a book of Norse mythology popped up. Thor had really stupid hair. A black and white photo of a very skinny, very small boy whose angular face showed he was older than his size would suggest in shorts and a matching shirt and a goofy grin appeared. And finally, a picture of Natasha looking pretty much exactly the same with Clint next to her.

“Why are Bruce and Natasha adults?” asked Sam.

“Dr. Banner doesn’t have any online presence to speak of, so I can’t find anything and — as far as I can tell — that’s the earliest existing photo of Agent Romanoff.”

“Seriously?” asked Sam. 

“The KGB’s Red Room didn’t take many cute snap shots after taking me as a small child and training me to be a living weapon from the age of four, five or maybe six — I actually have no idea exactly how old I was or exactly how old I am. I know my actual age to within a year but my abduction age is…” she shrugged. “But JARVIS picked a great awful picture because in retrospect I hated that hair. I didn’t have any opinion about it then. I didn’t have any opinions on anything at all because I was a brainwashed baby KGB assassin. Now I can look at it and say, ‘Really? That shade of almost-purple red?’”

Clint snorted, “Yeah, your hair was the problem. Thor, did you ever really have a bowl cut like that?”

“Over fifteen hundred years ago,” said Thor, looking grumpy. 

“And, Steve, that’s a very cute matching pattern outfit,” said Sam.

“Thanks, it’s made from flour sacks,” said Steve. “I’m not embarrassed by that photo. JARVIS failed. In the twenties and thirties everyone was so dirt poor our moms made or clothes from flour sacks. When the companies found out they started printing patterns on them. I loved that outfit. Mom traded with Bucky’s mom for that cowboy material. By trading they both got enough for our outfits. Bucky got mallard ducks; I got cowboys.”

“That picture is a hundred years old,” said Clint. “How do you remember the detail?”

“I’m seven in that picture,” said Steve. “In my mind, it’s less than twenty years ago. That was a cool outfit. I felt awesome in that outfit. As your oldest would say: I looked baller. JARVIS failed.”

A video started playing of Steve on stage with dancing girls. He was in the old, corny outfit from the newsreels. He began to tap-dance as the women did a kickline behind him. Steve dropped his head into his hands. And JARVIS said, “You were saying, Captain Rogers?”

“I hate you,” said Steve. 

“Here’s a picture of Miss Sharon on her first day at SHIELD.” Sharon was in a pale blue skirt suit with her hair in a French twist. She was young and standing between Peggy, and a man Bruce assumed was Daniel. 

“I like this game,” she said.

“It’s being rigged by a program who has known you since you were a child,” said Sam.

“True,” agreed JARVIS. “I don’t know you well enough to feel comfortable picking on you very much, Sargent Wilson. So here’s a nice picture of you at boot camp.” He was smiling, with a whole bunch of people who were blurred. “I can’t show your friends. I might be Skynet but this isn’t their Judgment Day so I’m not going to put their photos of TV.”

“You were a beanpole,” said Clint.

“Yeah, the service helps you put on muscle,” said Sam. “Then I kept up with it ’cause I really like seeing myself in the mirror when I get out of the shower and brush my teeth. Sometimes it the best two minutes of my day.”

“Well, it’s gonna be useful now,” said Natasha.

“You’re our brother in combat,” said Thor, “We need you fighting fit, our training facilities here are great fun. But for flight we will go to those fields Tony bought. Central Park does not like it when I fly about there. They’ll like your wings even less and Sharon’s repulsors.”

Sam laughed, “Sounds great, man. I’m really looking forward to it.”

“I’m not really looking to fly with the repulsors, I’m looking to catch myself when I fall off a building and blow holes in things that need holes,” said Sharon. 

“As I do like you, Sargent Wilson, and you did poke fun at Miss Sharon, I feel I can make fun of you just a little,” said JARVIS. A photo of Sam from around middle school popped up, pee wee football, big shoulder pads, braces, goofy smile.

Sam groaned as everyone else laughed. “You grew into your ears,” said Steve.

“Shut up,” said Sam. 

“You weren’t a bean pole yet,” said Clint, “that’s a cute little bean twig!”

Phil looked at his watch and a camera guy. “We are out of time for this town hall. Thank you all for coming out, especially Mark. Teddy bears are very important. Superheroes can seem scary. They’re big and you mostly only see them when things go wrong. Sometimes, the organization they get paid by turn out to be bad. Teddy bears and PJs make superheroes less scary just like seeing pictures of them being silly or hearing them talking up here. Teddies, PJs and shampoo also raise millions of dollars for charity and help cover superheroes if they get injured and can’t work. And Sam’s teddies have wings which is cooler than anyone else’s. Thank you, all. We will see you at the next town hall which will be… whenever the UN can spare us, super villains aren’t messing with us and no one is in a really bad mood. On a personal note, it was nice to meet you, weird to be in daylight.”

“Where does Agent Coulson sleep?” said Sharon.

Phil sighed, “Where?”

“Under cover,” Natasha finished the joke. 

They all stood. “Have a great day,” said Phil.

Upstairs in the penthouse, Sharon flopped down on the couch, “That was weird.”

“The first press conference after getting burned is surreal,” agreed Clint.

Win went back to his old class and almost immediately got a black eye from falling off the climbing frame. He came upstairs with a big smile wearing a bumblebee outfit that needed to be returned to daycare and filled with stories about what he and his friends had talked about and done: playing with clay, and coloring, and climbing, and monkey bars, and tag, and hopscotch, and dress up and — yes — hide and seek.

Bruce was happy, just happy. For once, it felt like… for the first time in years, he really felt like he had a life. He had a home that was his. No one was coming to run him out. He had a job that was secure. A lab that no one was trying to take away. And, right now, he wasn’t spending time there, but he wasn’t even worried about job security as he worked on another critical project.

Hulk had toys and a best friend. Hulk had a social life with play dates and an ongoing project of his own. Bruce had little flashes of memories of adults, not just Tony, being kind and offering him and Win snacks, helping them with their project. Everyone was always kind to Hulk, soft-spoken. Hulk and Bruce had separate dance party playlists. Hulk’s was all The Monkees, Bee Gees and Wham. 

He and Tony kept pushing through the notebooks, kept tweaking BARF and ordering changes to the man’s apartment. They didn’t want the apartment to be offputtingly perfect. It couldn’t be like stepping out of a dream. A space that was exactly what he wanted would actually be creepy. Everything being handed to you on a plate was jarring and wrong, but they took out elements that would be triggering. 

One day, on the floor, surrounded by books and empty smoothie cups, JARVIS said, “I need you to suit under.”

“Suit under?” asked Tony.

“Our friend just entered the National Museum of American History, being subtle in a way that says, ‘I don’t want to be seen, but I do, but I don’t.’ I have alerted the other to suit under.” 

Tony stood and kissed the top of Bruce’s head, “Handsome, be good.” He collected the books. JARVIS already had them all digitized; it was just easier to use hardcopy. Tony put them in the rucksack. They didn’t belong to them. The hardcopy was nice to flip through, but they weren’t theirs. “See you soon,” said Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are all doing well, staying safe and keeping your spirits up. Next week, the Avengers and Iron Man go to meet their friend! I hope you enjoyed the town hall. I loved writing it!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's a short chapter, but it's the chapter we've all been waiting for!

Everyone was in hoodies, hats, both ‘Tasha and Share were wearing wigs. Steve was in glasses, and Tony said, “Are we seriously trying to ‘glasses and ponytail’ Steve? Do we really think Steve is gonna be easily glasses and ponytailed?”

“I also have a sweatshirt,” Steve held it up. 

“This is going to be a shit show,” said Tony. Sam wasn’t with them; he; he hadn’t been there when they signed the note. They didn’t want to spring him on their friend. It took six minutes to fly down, and they landed in stealth mode on top of the museum. “It’s fucking insane that we can get away with this.” He raised his wrist, looking at his smartwatch, “J, call security.” It rang once, and the head of security picked up. 

Tony said, “Hi, this is Tony Stark, I’m with the Avengers on your roof. I’m gonna turn off your security for a hot second on your northwest roof access. Don’t freak out. And keep this very, very quiet.”

“I mean no disrespect, Mr. Stark, I’m going to send a guard to meet you. I know it sounds stupid, but, y’know, if this is a fake out, she can at least call down and give me a heads up.”

Tony paused, “I mean, seems like a suicide mission for the one guard if I’m a lying baddie, but that’s cool. You do what you gotta do, my friend. Should we wait for her to unlock it for us?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

“Okay, when we come back up, we’re going to need to do so without an escort,” said Tony. “And again, we need to keep this very, very quiet.” 

“If you’re really you and the Avengers, you can do whatever you like short of stealing Dorothy’s slippers. I’m not saying a word to anyone and she won’t either.”

“If we can’t take the shoes, can we take the original Star-Spangled Banner?” asked Tony.

“I’m, like, ninety percent positive that it already belongs to Captain America,” said the guy, making Steve laugh. 

The door opened, and a woman in a uniform smiled at them and spoke into a walkie-talkie, “Oh my God, it’s Tony Stark and the Avengers.”

“That’s us, we need to keep this very, very quiet,” said Tony.

“No problem, sir, I’m your biggest fan. The Stark Expo was amazing.”

Tony smiled, “I’m so glad you enjoyed it. We need to move quietly and quickly now.”

“I’m going to leave that door open for you.”

He smiled, “Cool, ‘cause otherwise, we might kick it down on our way out.” 

He looked at his watch, and JARVIS said, “Hall of the Commandos, twenty-three minutes.” 

“Hall of Commandos?” he asked.

She smiled, “One floor down, turn left and then right then you can’t miss it.”

She left them, and the Avengers fell into step, moving into a pattern that didn’t look like a pattern. 

The man was unshaven. He looked tired, drawn, sad. He was staring at a picture of himself, healthy and smiling. Tony sidled up to him. Holding out the rucksack, he spoke softly, “These are some of your journals, we didn’t mean to steal them. I’m sorry.” The man took them. “The others are here. But we’re here as friends. I’m wearing an ear piece. They can hear us. I’m wearing it just in case HYDRA turns up and we suddenly need to fight for our lives and get the civilians out. You’re not boxed in. No one is stopping you from leaving. We’re here as friends. I’m so sorry we came into your home in Bucharest we never would have if we had known. We want to be friends.”

“I need weapons and intel,” said their friend. 

“Oh,” said Tony. “We can do that.” 

“You said we were friends.”

“Yeah,” Tony nodded, “I guess we’ve just been thinking so differently that I hadn’t considered it.”

“What were you thinking?”

“I had a genius doctor invent a way to remove that incredibly painful arm painlessly. I made a really comfortable apartment for you. And I spent weeks and weeks recalibrating groundbreaking PTSD technology and tailored it specifically to help you unscramble your brain and get the HYDRA code words outta your head so that you stay you when people start spouting Russian. Then I planned on building you a new comfortable arm, letting you catch your breath and we’d keep killing HYDRA while you take five minutes off before rejoining the fray. I had to read your journals to build the PTSD tech and apartment for you. Sorry. Bruce Banner had to read them too, to help me. Again, sorry.”

“Is the tech BARF?”

“Yeah.”

“Saw you talking about that on the internet, it’s amazing… HYDRA needs to be stopped. The code words… The code words make me weak.”

“Yeah... If my father and Peggy had had any idea that you survived that fall they would have dedicated themselves to finding you. We’re gonna get HYDRA, and we’re not trying to steal this fight from you. We’re your friends. You want cash, weapons and intel then that’s what we do. You want some medical help then we are there. Either way, step one is walking upstairs, getting on the jet on the roof and flying to Edwin Tower in New York. We’ll have some dinner. I know you have no reason to trust us.”

“I know you’re the good guys. HYDRA wanted me to kill you; you’re the good guys. They wiped me since I read your dossiers. I remember some of it.” 

It was precisely what Peggy had said. 

Tony chuckled, “A real case of the enemy of my enemy.”

“I’m sorry about your parents,” said the man.

“Thank you, HYDRA fucked us both on that one. But they have done a lot worse to you over the last seventy years. I think you need a break and we can help you take that break. But, if you don’t want a break, then I have a lot of guns, money and information.”

The man was silent for a full minute, looking at the photo of himself, “I only almost remember this man.”

Tony shrugged, “We’ve been calling you our friend because we weren’t sure what name you would like.”

The man huffed out a tired laugh. “I don’t know what name I would like… friend is good, just call me your friend. The arm hurts all the fucking time. God, just even some good maintenance would be a gift. Taking a break sounds good. The words… they could take me away from me at any time. I want to be alone in my head.”

“Y’wanna leave?” asked Tony. 

The man looked around, “Can we just? I mean.”

“If you want to finish looking around I can leave you alone.”

“You could walk with me?” He looked at a picture of Steve and then glanced at Steve. “I almost remember him too.”

“You were like brothers,” said Tony, “closer than brothers.”

A picture of all the Commandos together made him say, “It’s like a movie you saw on cable and remember liking and recommend to people but don’t actually remember.”

“How many times did you get away?” asked Tony.

Their friend shrugged, “I don’t know; enough to have seen good movies on cable.” He pointed at Peggy. “She and the blond man had crushes on each other. It was cute and they needed to get their acts together.”

“She lives with me. She’s my Aunt Peggy. She’s my kid’s grandmother.”

“Y’got a kid?” asked the man.

“Little boy,” agreed Tony. “I will keep him away from you until you catch your breath because he is a chatter box. Good god, you know he’s asleep when he stops talking.”

They fell silent as they walked around until they reached the end. “I’m ready,” said the man. “Thank you for letting me see this.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” said Tony. “I’m not making you go anywhere, I’m not doing you a favor and I’m not forcing you to go anywhere. I asked you if you wanted a ride, you said yeah but you wanted to see a thing. That’s cool. My aunt looked really pretty when she was pretty much a kid.”

“She was stunning,” said their friend. “I can see why Steven had a crush.”

“He’s just Steve,” said Tony.

“Thanks for the heads up,” said the man. “Let’s go.”

Tony turned, and they left quietly and smoothly. The Avengers all came, looking casual. Once they were on the back stairs, they moved fast. And on the roof, they got into the jet in seconds. Clint in the pilot seat and took off. Once they were up, Share pulled off the wig. “Hi, it’s so nice to meet you, welcome to the gang.” She started to hold out her hand and then said, “How do you feel about physical contact? Is a handshake good or bad?” 

“You haven’t read my journals?”

“No only Tony and Bruce read them,” said Sharon, “it was no one who couldn’t help you’s business.”

“Not much of a toucher,” said the man. 

“It’s really nice to meet you,” she said, putting her hand in her lap. “Fuck HYDRA.”

“Is this just the way we say hello now?” asked Steve.

“Not in front of Win,” said Tony. “When you say ‘fuck’ in front of my son you owe Happy Hogan a dollar.” Their friend just stared at him. Tony said, “Before my son Win was born we made a swear jar to clean up our mouths. All of us did it pretty easily. Happy just couldn’t do it so we decided Happy was our swear jar. When people swear they pay Happy because he owns them he can use them as much as he likes… It is hilarious when my kid drops pasta sauce on his tutu and shouts ‘Oh fuck me.’ He gets five bucks a week. Two dollars a month go to Happy. So ‘Fuck HYDRA’ can be our secret handshake but not in front of my nearly six-year-old.”

“Win?”

“Short for Edwin, I don’t have so much of an ego that I actually gave my kid the verb ‘Win’ as a name.”

They ran through introductions, the man nodded; his face betrayed the fact that he knew their names from files. Finally, Tony said, “And JARVIS is the AI.”

“Hello, my friend, it’s nice to meet you.”

“He had to read your books to help with BARF. Again, I’m sorry. He’s part of your medical staff,” Tony grimaced. “He’ll never tell anyone. What do you want for dinner? I’ll cook you whatever you want, order whatever you want, you also have your own kitchen with some staples and JARVIS can order you whatever you like. He is in your apartment. But, you can turn him off if you like. You’re not under surveillance. Just ask him not to be there and he won’t be.” 

“How long will it take to get this arm off?” asked the man, voice quiet.

“Around five hours,” said Tony. 

“Well, then, it’s excruciating all the time,” their friend almost whispered, “if you can do it this afternoon I would rather do it. But, I assume I’m going to have to be knocked out all night.”

“It’s painless,” Tony promised. “You’ll be awake and talking. So we’re looking at pizza, empanadas, bagel, mini quiche. A one-handed dinner.”

“You think I can eat pizza while doing this?”

“I think you’re biggest problem is going to be dripping pizza grease on yourself. I’m serious when I say it’s painless,” said Tony. The Tower came into view, and Tony pointed it out. 

“Yeah, I know,” he agreed, “I’ve been in New York. Didn’t know why it had Edwin on the side. Beautiful building.”

“Steve thinks it’s hideous,” said Natasha.

“Well, he’s from the forties and I’ve been awake sometimes. It’s Stark Modern. The Stark Modern buildings are beautiful. The Cord and Rand buildings manage to be ugly and dull at the same time.” 

“I like you more and more all the time,” said Tony. They landed, and Win came running to the IronJet, arm wrapped, “Sorry, I meant to shield you from the chatterbox but he seems to have a new booboo.” The back opened, and he exited fast, scooping up Edwin, “What happened, beautiful?”

“Hulk and I were playing good pretend — not stupid old house. I was wearing my Peter Pan Outfit and he was wearing Tinkerbelle wings and I was jumping off the roof off the Wendy house. And he was catching me so I was flying and we were singing the song together. And I didn’t jump far enough so I scrapped down all the roof tiles and landed on the balcony and my arm is mangled but Dr. Cho says it doesn’t need to be amputated and it’s not broken. It need bacitracin and wrapping and Peter and Aunt Pepper and Uncle Happy all kissed it better. And I cried and cried so Hulk and I got ice cream. Sorry, Steve, it was your ice cream, no one else had any and it was an emergency.”

“Ouch, that sounds awful,” said Tony as Steve just nodded, obviously trying not to laugh.

“I wanted a real cast,” Edwin pouted, “people can’t sign a Band-Aid.” He looked past Tony and said, “Who are you?”

“He’s our friend,” said ‘Tasha, “he’s exhausted, and he has PTSD because HYDRA hurt him very, very badly. He needs a little kindness and to be left alone for a little while, okay?”

“Okay,” Edwin nodded, “hello, friend, I’m sorry Nazis still exist. Daddy and the Avengers are doing their best.”

“We gotta go see Doctor Cho about the cradle,” said Tony. “We’re ordering some sort of delivery for dinner, but I don’t know what yet.”

“Dr. Cho wouldn’t let me use the cradle for my arm because it’s just a booboo,” Edwin pouted again. “I want to try out the cradle.”

“I’m sorry that your booboo does not merit using a medical device that cost tens of millions of dollars to build. The cradle is for people who really need it. Our friend needs it for his arm,” said Tony, kissing him and putting him down. 

“Is your arm worse than this?” Edwin held out his bandaged arm. The man paused and took out his jacket. His henley was mostly unbuttoned — Tony knew he hated things around his neck — it was also missing a sleeve, the arm and the scarring were visible. “Okay, yeah,” Edwin conceded, “you get the cradle first. Does that hurt?”

The man glanced at Tony, and Tony smiled, he didn’t need to lie, but Tony also didn’t want him to scare the shit out of Edwin. The man looked at Edwin, “All the time, but your dad will help me.”

“Daddy doesn’t know how the cradle works, but Dr. Cho is amazing,” said Win. “Then it won’t hurt anymore.” 

“Go play,” Tony ordered. Edwin ran away. “So, that’s my kid. If you have been worried about the cradle or medical care my kid is jealous that you get to use it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think my favorite after credit scene is Bucky in the museum. It makes me cry despite being, like, one shot. It's just a man trying to learn himself. So I made it a scene. I hope you liked it!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day from me to you!

It was all so very, very overwhelming. He was sort of unarmed. Well, he didn’t have a weapon, but he did have a deadly arm. He didn’t need another weapon as he was a living weapon, but it still felt odd not to have a gun. He had two backpacks that had been searched by the museum’s security. The woman had clearly thought he was homeless. Blankets, sweatshirts, notebooks, extra shoes, nonperishable food. His bags held everything he’d been able to grab when he’d left his place quickly. Security had still let him in: they didn’t keep the homeless out. Now he had more of his notebooks, but he couldn’t remember writing them. 

This place was opulent, and it was all so fast. His throat was tight. His heart was slamming into his ribs. The back of his neck was hot. The building was beautiful and so clean. The kid was cute. It was just so fucking fast. He wanted some guns and a few targets. And then Stark had said he could take the horrible arm off. The nerves always screamed. And try as he might, he could never get the dirt or grit or rust out of it. It looked good from the outside but internally… It always fucking hurt and grinded. Stark was going to get it off. Stark was going to get the words out of his head.

“You look like you’re about to faint,” said Romanoff. 

“It’s a bit warm, maybe, maybe I’m just a little,” he shook his head. 

With a gentle smile, she said, “Is the penthouse overwhelming? We can go to your apartment.”

“We’re in the building, the cradle thing is here,” he protested. 

“Your apartment is downstairs,” said Stark. “Thought the penthouse might be a bit loud for you.” The place was too open, too much glass, too much steel. He hoped the word “apartment” was right, that it wasn’t like… this. “We’ll get you a drink, you can put down your bags.” He nodded. “You’re overwhelmed. Why don’t you pick who you want to come with you? You don’t need the whole team.”

Thinking and looking around, he evaluated the group. The Steve guy seemed so hopeful. But the man couldn’t remember him in anything more than a few flashes. He said, “Well, I killed your parents and I shot Agent Romanoff so, I guess I feel most comfortable with you.”

“Sound logic,” said the woman. 

“JARVIS is everywhere, if you don’t like him in your apartment you can ask him to go away and then go in the hallway and tell him to turn himself back on,” said Stark, “you can talk over your options with him. J, where is the key to our friend’s apartment?”

“It’s on the coffee shelf, Sir. My friend, I am at your service. However you need. And I’m not spying on you when you’re in your apartment.”

“I think we’re gonna have to have a talk about that,” said the man.

“Of course, my friend, whatever you feel is appropriate. This is your home for as long as you like and I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” assured the computer.

Stark got the key. “We can get you a drink, let you catch your breath.”

“Dr. Cho needs an hour to get the cradle ready,” said JARVIS. “You have time for a snack, order a meal, take a shower, whatever you like. Once it’s turned on, it can wait.”

Looking at the others, the man said, “Thank you for your help, we’re gonna get the bastards. I just… the words make me a liability and… my arm screams all the time. And…”

“Don’t apologize for wanting to not be in agony,” said the guy, Barton. “We’ll stay on HYDRA, you work with Tony, Bruce and JARVIS.”

Stark led him to the elevator with Romanoff, and once the doors closed, the elevator didn’t move. Instead, Stark said, “Would you like a gun for your apartment? It couldn’t leave your apartment, there are children here, but, if it would make you feel safer, we could stop off at the Avenger’s weapons storage and get one? Or some knives. You have knives in your kitchen but they’re not the same.”

The show of trust was stunning. This man had read his notebooks; Stark knew what he was and what he could do, and he was offering him weapons. The smiling little boy with the wrapped arm popped into his head, and he said, “Once the trigger words are gone.”

“Once the trigger words are gone you can walk around like ‘Tasha. She has four weapons on her person at meals. She walks into daycare to talk to my kid with a gun on her. I was just asking for your bedroom.”

He glanced at the woman; she smiled and nodded. But he repeated, “Once the trigger words are gone.”

“Okay,” agreed Stark. He told him the floor number, and the man hit the button, noting that Stark left the task to him, gave him as much control as possible. It was one left turn, and Stark said, “You have a corner apartment but it’s a smaller one; I didn’t want you to get too overwhelmed. If you don’t like it, we have bigger apartments. I just wanted you to stay whelmed.”

“I’m not sure it’s possible for me to stay whelmed right now,” he said honestly. 

Stark nodded, “Yeah, I can imagine that’s true.” He held out the key, “This is you.” He pointed at a door.

The man took a deep breath. He braced himself for more glass, for modern furniture too good to sit on, for carpets too expensive to walk on. The door opened and… a comfy looking blue couch and a soft-looking yellow blanket were across from a regular but nice-sized TV. There was a wooden coffee table with coasters and a fruit bowl filled with bags of cookies. A set of bookshelves was filled with paperbacks and cookbooks with open space for more.

“I didn’t put fruit in your fruit bowl because I wasn’t sure when you were going to turn up,” explained JARVIS. “The fruit bowl in the kitchen has bags of chips. We can order you real groceries. You have snacks, frozen things and staple ingredients in the meantime.”

The man just looked around. The lamps didn’t match each other. They kinda went with the furniture. It was nice, it was comfortable. Some of it he recognized. He’s killed two men in the bathroom of an IKEA. The nice chair was definitely from IKEA. It wasn’t the style of the penthouse. There were cushions. A couple of the chairs looked a little worn, broken in, and the side tables had scuffs on the legs. They weren’t new. “Thank you,” he said softly.

“You okay?” asked Stark.

“Yeah,” he shook his head. “This place is amazing, thank you, Mr. Stark.”

“Oh, please, it’s just Tony and it’s my pleasure.” 

“Tony, then, thank you.”

“Bruce, JARVIS and I worked on it together,” said Tony. “Figured that the penthouse would not be your thing.”

“It’s not. This is perfect,” said the man. 

Tony started pointing at doors, “Bedroom with a bathroom, bathroom, other bedroom, littler sitting room, kitchen with a nice table. The Avengers have their own floors but I figured.”

“No, this is much, much better than a whole floor,” He breathed out slowly, “I’m going to put these down,” he gestured to his bags. 

The bedroom was big, but it wasn’t too big. The bed was a queen. He saw indents in the carpet. There had been a king bed here until recently. Tony really had thought of everything. A queen was incredible compared to a camp bed with a sleeping bag and a few blankets on top. A king was too big. He put the bags and his jacket down and went into the bathroom. There was wrapped soap. He washed his hand and face. Back in the bedroom, he thought maybe he would put one shirt in a drawer. He wouldn’t really unpack. He might need to run fast. But, one symbolic shirt would be okay. He opened a drawer he saw a Henley with one sleeve pinned up. Jesus Christ, the man really had thought of everything. He changed into a clean shirt from his bag. No point in ripping off a sleeve of a brand new shirt. He squared his shoulders and went back. 

He went toward the kitchen and saw the front door. He had seen the one lock from the outside. Now he saw the chain, slide blot, cylinder lock and swing bar. Four additional locks on the inside of the door, three of which couldn’t be tampered with from the outside. They had brought him into their building and trusted him enough to give him a door with five locks — four internal. 

In the kitchen, Romanoff, or maybe Natasha, gave him a warm smile. She was looking in his fridge, “Despite not having fruit, you have OJ, milk, coffee, tea, water and Coke.”

“Aine?” he joked. 

“Nah,” she shook her head, “for cocaine you’re gonna have to go to the mail room.”

“Or the interns in the ‘Can you break it?’ section of R&D,” said Tony. “Pretty sure they have it.” 

“I would love a Coke,” he said. “It’s all over the world but it doesn’t taste right.” Tony pointed out a washer and dryer in a closet as Natasha got him a Coke. Looking around at the nice, clean little kitchen, he said, “When you wrote in that note that you wanted to help and be friends, it was gun and information.” He laughed. “It was guns and information… Now there’s a drawer of shirts with the sleeves pinned. Why not just remove them?”

“Because your next arm will match your real arm,” said Tony. “It’s not going to be so big, or heavy. It’s going to be correctly placed on your shoulder, supported by muscle and you’re going to be able to comfortably wear shirts. Are you hungry? If you want to order or cook something now, it can be a two-handed meal. If you just want a snack and get to the cradle in the lab ASAP, then it’s a one-handed meal.”

The words turned him cold, “It’s in a lab?”

“My lab,” said Tony.

He looked at the can, passing it back and forth between his hands, “I have to go into a lab?”

Ton’s brows knitted, “Yeah, it’s where the power source would handle it. But it’s absolutely nothing like a real lab.”

“How is it possibly not a real lab?”

“JARVIS can do projections anywhere in the building. Would it be okay to show you?” He braced himself and nodded. A well-lit room popped up — a lot of windows. Tony started pointing out nooks with art easels, dress-up boxes, a toy train track near the ceiling, a snack fridge, a play lab bench with real tools where his kid built his own fun toys, three robots that apparently did whatever they liked. The walls were papered with drawings from children. “Win likes to draw. Well-behaved kids can leave daycare to visit their parents in the labs, they noticed my pictures gave me some of their own, kids mail me fan art. I thank them and pin up every picture I get given. It’s a real working lab. It’s the most important lab in the company. But it’s not a real lab because my baby wanders in and out and read Physics Weekly out loud every week to me while stroking my robots and eating blueberries.”

“That’s not a scary lab,” he said. 

“No, we have dance parties with changing colored lights. The robots love it. And when you call for a dance party in other in another room holograms of them pop up to dance. The truth is, sometimes they are recordings. If my bots really joined in every dance party they would get even less done than they currently do.”

He nodded, “I don’t like the idea of color changing lights.”

“I’ll make a note of that, my friend,” said JARVIS. “No color changing lights or lasers when you are present for a dance party.”

He nodded slowly, “I’d rather have a snack and get to the cradle as soon as we can.”

“It’s your kitchen so it feels rude for me to be poking around. You can give JARVIS a full grocery list,” said Tony. 

The man went to the refrigerator. It had a lot of food, considering Tony didn’t think there was food. “Cheese,” he said definitively. There were little wax wrapped ones, the little triangular spreadable ones, string cheese and cheddar. “Um, JARVIS, do I have crackers?”

“Yes, my friend, your pantry is to the left,” said the AI. 

He opened the door and said, “Holy fuck, so much food, a few bits of fruit and a carton of eggs and I’m pretty sure I’ll be good for a year.”

“Favorite fruit?”

“Plums and pears.”

“Meat?”

“Any meat is a luxury. I have gotten to enjoy so rarely that when I get it I’m thrilled.”

“Any specific cut?”

“Again, meat is great,” he said.

“Okay,” said the AI. “Snacks?”

“There are lots of snacks already,” he said. Then he said, “More cheese.”

“Alcohol?”

“No, no, I’m fine on that front. I can’t get drunk but I get angry that I can’t get drunk.”

“Okay. I destroyed the extra key the moment you entered the IronJet at the museum, so the groceries will be left outside your door.”

“Thank you.” He shared the cheese, thinking about the cradle. “I’m going to be awake?”

“Yeah,” said Tony. “It will be fine. So, pizza, bagels, mini quiche?”

“Pizza, definitely pizza, any toppings at all,” he forced himself to act calm. The cheese was demolished; it was so damn good. Cheese was just good. Focusing on breathing in and out, he went with them to the labs. It felt like he was willingly walking to his doom. Like he was going to the chair but un-cuffed, without guards, without being dragged. The lab looked friendly. A man introduced himself as Bruce Banner and said that he’d been working on BARF. A woman introduced herself as Helen Cho. He saw the “cradle,” a table with a ring over it. He didn’t want to lie down in it. Three human-sized machines were moving around in the back of the room, clearly looking at him but then moving away.

Tony followed his eye line, “They want to say hello but they know you have been through a lot of horrible things and they don’t want to overwhelm you. They’ve been getting lectured a lot.”

He looked at them how they were looking at him and then ducking and looking at each other. “Hello, robots, it’s nice to meet you.”

They all rolled over, fast and Banner said, “Boys, be good.” They all slowed down. 

They came, one was peering at his arm, and Tony said, “No, U, don’t touch, it hurts, he needs the doctor. Friend, this is DUM-E, U and Butterfingers. They are AI learning robots so please don’t be unkind because they learn and remember. And that’s sad.” One kept tilting oddly, and another kept leaning forward. “Butterfingers is asking you to stroke him and U wants a high five. DUM-E is still deciding if he likes you.”

“So Butterfingers and U have already decided?”

Tony smiled and shrugged, “You’re in the lab. They are younger than DUM-E. They aren’t as wary.” Even as he interacted with the robots, he kept an eye on the cradle. 

Dr. Cho started explaining how the cradle worked, explaining how it would slowly build skin, muscle, fat, based on scans from his other shoulder. She said it would slowly, painlessly, disconnect the metal from his bone and flesh. It apparently numbed as it went. It couldn’t rebuild bone. Once it was entirely disconnected, they would wrap his shoulder to protect his nerves as his body got used to it. “It’s going to be seven and a half hours,” she said.

“I thought it was five,” said Tony. Looking at him, he said. “I’m sorry, friend.”

“No,” she said. “I figured out how to do it painlessly and quickly, seven and a half hours is amazing. And, my friend, if noise doesn’t bother you can take a nap.”

He nodded it, but his feet were glued to the floor. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t take a step toward it. After several long moments, Tony nodded. 

Finally, Tony said, “J, get Win down here. He’s gonna finally get to have a turn in the cradle.” The robot that had been examining him but not interacting zipped away and went to a blender, “Oh, look at that: DUM-E is making you a smoothie.” Tony smiled at him. 

The little boy ran in only a few moments later. He was in regular clothes but with a tutu, crown and cowboy boots. “I get to go in the cradle?”

“Our friend is nervous. It’s like when we take Aunt Pepper out on a surfboard: we gotta show her it’s not scary because she’s a very brave person but we’re all nervous when it’s something that’s strange and foreign.”

Win smiled, “Don’t worry, it’s not scary. Clint ate a cheeseburger, drank a green juice and had a fight with Aunt ‘Tasha while he was in it. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen it being used and it was so cool.” Looking at the woman, he said, “Dr. Cho, what do I do?”

The robot bought him a cup with a smoothie. He accepted it and said, “Thank you.”

Quietly Tony said, “You are not honor bound to drink it. You can just hold it for a bit.”

Looking at it, he asked, “What is it?”

JARVIS answered, “Greek yogurt, honey, raspberries, blueberries, strawberries and ice. Nothing interesting but nothing bad.” 

The robot brought a smaller cup to Win. Win swung his legs, said, “Thank you,” and kissed the robot before taking a sip. “Delicious.” Dr. Cho started to unwrap his arm. It was scrapped, inside of his wrist, all the way up past his elbow.

“Ow, baby,” said Tony. 

“I cried and cried. It was awful,” he agreed. 

“Kind of ice cream did you get?” asked Tony.

“Only Steve had ice cream, so we got butter pecan because Steve is old and old people like butter pecan. It was tasty.”

Dr. Cho smiled. “Let’s get you propped right so you can drink your smoothie. Now, for you, this doesn’t really matter because you’re going to be in the cradle for a few minutes. But, we’re showing our friend how it works and he’s going to be here for hours and hours so he’s gonna eat snacks and pizza and ice cream so we need to show him that he’s gonna be able to eat.”

“Hulk and I ate all of Steve’s ice cream and no one else had ice cream. So I’m sorry, friend, you won’t be eating cream,” said the kid, so calm as the doctor literally strapped his arm down.

“If you don’t like this, if you change your mind, you turn your hand clockwise and push up. Try it for me.” Win did it, and it popped open immediately. She reset it again. “One more time.” He did, and it popped again. “Was that hard?”

“Easy peasy,” Win took a sip of his smoothie. “Can we do this already? I’m very excited.”

“Okay, you know the hum, expect the hum,” she said. 

“I expect the hum.” It started, and the man watched the machine as it made new skin. “Wow, this is so cool. Way better than when Clint got shot because I wasn’t shot; I fell off the roof of my Wendy house. This is so cool.” He took another sip of his drink. “It doesn’t hurt at all. I know my booboo’s not like your arm but Clint had a fight with Aunt ‘Tasha ate a burger while it fixed a bullet wound in his leg. And it wasn’t a real fight it was a fight about the words of a song they disagreed, they were both wrong. They don’t know Kesha songs as well as me. She’s got plenty of beer, Aunt ‘Tasha, not plenty to fear. And certainly not ‘hear’ like Clint thought.”

“No one knows Kesha like you, Win,” said Natasha. “Kesha doesn’t know her songs as well as you do.” 

Win grinned at her and then looked at his arm, sipping his drink. “Look at how cool it is: it’s just fixing my arm. It’s just doing it. Would you like a dance party or is it too loud? It’s okay if you don’t like noise. Sometimes Steve doesn’t. He has PTSD. Sometimes he doesn’t like noise.”

“I don’t want the lights to change, but I don’t mind as long as it’s not too loud.”

“Thank you, Tik Tok, please, J.”

He only half understood the words that Win said. But a song started, and everyone in the room danced along with the pop song, including the robots. Win and Natasha sang, the little boy only dancing as much as the cradle would allow. Then the machine stopped suddenly, and the restraints opened. “Oh no, I didn’t mean to open it dancing!” 

The doctor smiled, “That’s okay. It shows our friend just how easily it opens.” She clicked it back into place. “Maybe wait until after your arm is done to dance.”

“Kesha is hard not to dance to,” he said, taking a sip of his drink as the machine turned back on. About a minute later, the song was over, and the cradle turned off. Win opened the clasps on purpose, “Look, friend, all better. Daddy says his universe lives under my skin. He wouldn’t have let me have a turn in the cradle if the cradle wasn’t awesome.”

“The pizza will be arriving in a moment. Doc, security can bring it here but, of course, they can’t go higher in the building because they hit private floors. Might I suggest you and Master Win bring the ones for the family and team up and allow Dr. Cho, Sir and Agent Romanoff to help our friend?”

“Absolutely,” said Dr. Banner. “This is private. But if you want visitors or to get to know anyone, just call. Or, if you want to learn about BARF.”

That gave him pause, and he said, “Actually, maybe Natasha could bring the pizzas upstairs and we could talk about BARF now?”

The man blinked, “Sure, absolutely.”

There was a ding, and Natasha smiled and said, “Butterfingers, come with us and earn your keep.” The robot zipped after her. 

Tony said, “Bathroom is through there,” he pointed. “I have a ton of snacks. No soda, only sparkling water. My kid isn’t really allowed soda. We can talk about BARF but we sure as hell shouldn’t do use BARF while you’re in the cradle. We have music. We can watch something, you really can sleep. Sorry, I thought it was going to be faster.”

Dr. Cho said, “I invented an impossible surgery. We could wait until the morning.”

“I really don’t want to wait. If you’re willing I’m willing. It hurts all the time. It screams when I am sitting still. You could tell me it would take a month and I wouldn’t hesitate.”

“Okay,” she smiled. “Any time you want to take a break, we can do that. Before hour four you should definitely take a bathroom break, after that your arm is going to be almost half off and you probably shouldn’t stand up because then you might badly, painfully, gruesomely injure yourself.”

He took a deep breath, “Good to know.” The robot came with pizza boxes, and he sat on the cradle, “Okay. What toppings did we get?”” 

“Basics,” said Tony, looking in the boxes, “Veggie, meat lovers, pepperoni, plain, everything, white with spinach. What are you having?” he asked.

Dr. Cho showed him how to position himself, “Pepperoni would be great,” he said as Tony brought him over a couple of slices on a paper plate and carried the box over, so it was close enough to reach. The minute the machine turned on, he immediately freed his arm. Then he smiled at Dr. Cho, “Sorry I just wanted to be sure.” 

She smiled, “Totally fine and understandable. You want me to redo it?”

“Yes, please.”

She re-latched the fastenings. The machine turned back on. He could feel something moving on his skin, but it didn’t hurt, so he focused on his pizza. “Sparking water, flat, any form of tea or coffee? JARVIS does fancy shit,” offered Tony. 

“Cold water would be great, thank you.” He watched his arm.

Dr. Cho said, “Unlike Win, you won’t see the changes as rapidly because his injury was very superficial. If you look at it every couple of minutes you’ll see changes but watching it constantly will make it imperceptible. Like watching the tide go out, it’s so gradual you won’t notice it until suddenly the water is way down the beach.”

Tony brought him water, “So, BARF, let us distract you by explaining how we’re gonna help you own your own brain.”

They talked for three hours, demolishing the pizzas. JARVIS asked Tony to come upstairs and tuck Win into bed. “Snacks? Can I take orders?”

“Find out if Peggy has any scones left,” said Bruce.

“That would be amazing,” the man agreed.

“Okay, basic snacky things — hopefully more pizza — and aim for fresh baked things — hopefully scones: I got my orders,” said Tony with a nod. “I’ll be back after bedtime poems. Friend, would you like extra company? I can send someone down. They would all love to be here. They’re only being polite and staying away. There’s way more to talk about BARF and that plan but, if you want a break, anyone would love a chat.”

The idea made him nauseous. He was strapped down, not trapped but… still. “I’d rather… in the machine. It’s just.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself,” said Bruce, “not at all. You want privacy, you get privacy. You’re having medical treatment. We can talk about BARF, or not, we can talk about whatever you like, or we can be quiet.”

They talked about BARF more. They spoke of his spine and maybe doing yoga and needing to see how he felt when he stood up. He might be unbalanced; he might be okay: he was a super soldier. 

Tony came two more pizzas, scones with jam and cream, doughnuts, and all different sorts of chips, nuts and cut vegetables with a dip. He had milk and soda. “The only things from my kitchen were the milk, veggie platter and nuts. I have a kid and pretend to be healthy. I raided everyone else’s kitchens.”

More and more of the arm came off. The scarring flaked off like a sunburn, leaving tender pink skin. The machine turned off, and he didn’t know why. “I didn’t move my hand.”

Dr. Cho shook her head, “No, everything is fine. You should get up and go to the bathroom, we’ve hit the point where you won’t be able to from here on out.”

“I’m fine.”

“This isn’t a HYDRA lab,” she said. “This isn’t an endurance test: stand up, pee, don’t swing your arm around too much. Hold it when you walk. We’ve been eating and drinking. Even if you think you don’t want to go to the bathroom, you should go. It’s like going before a long car trip.”

He sighed and stood up slowly. He did go to the bathroom if only to get her off his back. In the mirror, he saw his arm, it was hanging on to his shoulder, separated from the armpit. He could have lifted it to look underneath but he wasn’t interested, better not to look, not to see what might be hidden there. Then he went back and walked around the lab a little, looking at the drawings. Some were clearly from different kids. A lot were fan art with notes that had been mailed to Tony. Then he went back to the table, “Was that long enough?”

“Thank you for humoring me,” she said. 

He climbed back on, and she cuffed him back on. “Want to see some arm mockups?” asked Tony. “I haven’t even sort of started on them. I want a lot of input.”

Arm mockups didn’t immediately appear. The man realized the question was genuine. The images wouldn’t be shown to him until he gave him consent. It was tiny things. Strange little things that had been happening over the hours: Tony and Bruce always making sure more food was within his reach, Tony not going into his fridge, Sharon not fully raising her hand to shake his before asking if he liked touch. It had been over ten hours of people being kind and actively trying not to transgress boundaries.

“I would like to see them,” he agreed. One arm came up. It looked like a normal, human arm.

“I plan on making you as many arms as you like. I’m a billionaire, my friends get the best. So, you can have all of these if you like. This is the Incogneat Arm, it matches the strength of your other arm. Only drawback is psychological. As you regain your memories, we will have to work on it: mole here, freckle there, old burn from a dropped cigarette on the inside of your wrist. It would be a work in progress but it’s a pretty option, nice when you just want to hit the grocery store without anyone realizing you’re the guy who fought next to Captain America.”

And the guy who shot JFK, thought the man, an important note to add. Tony just smiled and pulled up another arm next to it, “This is the Fuck HYDRA Arm,” it was red and gold. “Colors can change, I just show everything in what I consider to be factory standard. You have your own tastes, hot rod and gold are my aesthetic.” He pulled sections of the arm, “As you can see you actually have eight built in rocket launchers, four shots each and a flame thrower. When you wear this you have a little wire running from your shoulder to an adhesive patch behind your ear: you mentally control your rockets separately from your arm.”

He swiped it to the side and pulled up another, “This is your What the Actual Fuck Went Wrong in My Life Arm. You will be a wireless hotspot with a top-of-the-line speaker system and unlimited music library. Hold up your index finger and you get holograms of the bots for dance parties, you’re also hooked into my credit card so you can order food and JARVIS will just know where you are for the delivery guy, the wrist has a bottle opener built in. You’ll be a walking party.” That made the man laugh. “I’m putting your reaction down as a solid ‘maybe.’” 

He moved that one to the side and pulled up another one that looked clear and fluid, without apparent joints. It looked like it was glass or — if it was organic — like a jellyfish, but how could it be? It had to have joints, or it wouldn’t move. “I called this one Art, Artifice or Arm. It’s the newest Stark Industry material, meant for bendable electronics, built with our patented clear wires. It doesn’t play music or get Wi-Fi. Just looks real pretty.”

He pulled up another one that was metal and covered in an intricate swirling pattern of dogs, “Steve said you used to like dogs. Don’t know if you still do. I just wanted to show you that I can do a pattern if you want a design. I call it the I Like Turtles Arm.”

He pulled up one that looked like white material, “This is a personal favorite of mine. You most likely didn’t have any time to soak in pop culture of the ‘90s because: HYDRA. The Doodle Bear was a marvelous invention. A teddy bear with special markers that a kid could draw on and then throw in the washing machine and draw on again. I didn’t appreciate it at the time. I was a slutty drunkard, now I’m just waiting for the patent to run out so I can bring them back better because they needed a special marker or they stained. This arm has a compartment for pens, markers and special dry detergent. The material allows you to write and draw on it — even with permanent ink — rub the detergent on and it disappears. Great for art work and writing down a code too long for even a super soldier to remember in the middle of a job. It’s the Doodle Arm.” 

He pulled up another; it was almost identical to the one they were cutting off, but it was streamlined, thinner, the plates better matched. “This is the Trauma Arm. You’ve had that torture device strapped to you for seventy years. I wasn’t sure if completely abandoning the design would be worse. This one is waterproof and incapable rusting or getting particle in it. It is the correct weight, would sit properly on your frame, wouldn’t leave your nerves screaming or have a fucking star stamped-”

“No, not that. Not that one.”

“Okay,” agreed Tony, flicking it into a virtual garbage can. “Just wanted to offer. I’m still thinking, I would love to hear your ideas, obviously, nothing is going on your body without your okay, not here, not in my kid’s Tower. It’s gonna take a couple of weeks for your nerves to settle down and your swelling to ease enough for us to place a cap on where your shoulder should be. You have most of your clavicle and most of your scapula. This is going to make a shoulder for you and the way it straps on will distribute the weight over your other shoulder, your torso and hip: all muscle and balanced. You can have as many arms as you like: One for every day of the year. There’s a discrete flap on the inside of the wrist. You put in your thumbprint, a code only you know and unlatch it at the armpit. You do up the latch and use your thumbprint to activate the new arm. With practice, it will be the work of mere seconds.” 

Dr. Cho helped explain his healing process, explain how the cap would protect his nerves, how she would give him regular physicals to be sure it was fitted well, wasn’t hurting. She said JARVIS had her direct number and that, while she would be staying throughout his initial recovery, she was never more than a phone call away after that. “Your arm should never cause you any pain if you ever think ‘It’s something I can push through,’ then it’s wrong and broken. You don’t push through. You let us know. We fix it together. You’re not alone in this anymore.” He nodded. About twenty minutes later, she said, “You will no longer be able to open the restraints yourself. If you want the machine to turn off, just let us know?”

“If I can’t move my arm, why not undo the restraints?” he asked.

She nodded and explained, “If you shift your torso, you could shift your arm accidentally. The cradle needs it where it is.”

He accepted it. “So, Tony and Bruce, when can we start on BARF?”

“Sleep, eat, shower and then we can begin,” said Bruce. “We are ready for you. We’ve been working for months to be ready for you. Ever since SHIELD fell we have been prepping for you to be here.”

“That reminds me, J, please send my aunt fourteen thousand dollars and my love,” said Tony.

“Of course, Sir, although, she already knows she has your love,” responded the AI. 

“A reminder never hurts.”

“Why?” asked the man.

“We felt so bad about making you homeless when we went into your apartment,” he shrugged, “figured you would run the minute you saw we had been there. But she bet me fourteen thousand dollars you would seek us out when you knew we were your friends. You came.” He smiled. “I’m sorry we broke into your home. But I’m really happy that you came.”

They walked him through the side effects of BARF. They told him that Sam Wilson was actually a counselor at the VA who helped vets who came back from war. They said maybe he could be useful to talk to.

Quietly he said, “I didn’t come back from war. I remember the fall of the Berlin Wall, I remember killing your parents, I remember shooting JFK, I remember wondering if I was the Zodiac — I don’t remember the order but I remember it. I’m missing lumps, but what I have… I’ve used shitty Russian tech and heard about how great SI stuff is but how HYDRA won’t shell out for the price but when SHIELD falls then we’ll be using it. Apps on Russian phones suck. I didn’t come back from war. I’ve been awake off and on. God, I wish I was like Steve, an ice trip to the future, what an amazing gift he got. All he has to deal with is the wrong time and the ghosts of Red Skull? That’s awful, it is. But I’ve been being tortured by people who still speak of Johann Schmidt with reverence for over seventy years. In and out of cryo so many times… It’s all out of order and bits are blank but I didn’t come back from war.” 

Bruce nodded, “Yeah, yeah. Sometimes… I had a lab accident and my split personality got me hunted by the U.S. armed forces all over the world for a decade and I thought, ‘This is hell.’ And then I met Tony. Tony’s uncle sold Tony’s weapons to terrorists behind his back and when he thought Tony was gonna find out he took a hit out on him but the hitmen decided to torture Tony for three months instead and now Tony walks around with a nuclear reactor in his chest so that shrapnel near his heart doesn’t kill him and I thought, ‘I don’t get to complain.’ Then I learned about Natasha. Her parents were murdered when she was little and she was raised and tortured with other little girls and when she was fourteen they were told to kill each other or be killed; she was the last one standing. She was told to shoot an innocent man point blank or be killed. She was told to be still and be sterilized awake and un-numbed or be killed. And I thought, ‘Tony doesn’t get to complain either.’ And then you came. The next person to come through that door is going to be limbless and have been tortured for a thousand years and kept in an alien’s sex dungeon. Until that happens, you’re the reigning champion of worst story, but know that everyone here could complain and everyone here is on your team. We’re not as damaged and we’re not as fresh but we’re not unscathed and everyone will listen because none of us will flinch… unless I’m my other personality. He’s a young child, he can’t deal with that story; I’m helping in the lab because he can’t be around Nazis.”

“How will I know if you’re your other personality?”

“I’ll be nine feet tall and green... possibly wearing a tutu, almost definitely with Win.”

“You’re Hulk?”

“In the other flesh,” agreed Bruce, “and he might be scary in battle, but at home, he’s just another kid.”

“Natasha was in the KGB’s Red Room? She seems so sane.”

“She got therapy and talked through it,” said Tony. 

“Wow,” he said, “to be okay after that… I read your files. I remember flashes. But my last wipe.” He shook his head. “The most recent stuff is always the hardest to reach.”

“You are over three quarters there on this arm,” reported Dr. Cho. “How are you feeling?” 

“I feel good,” he said. “Nothing hurts. Not panicking. Weird to look at. It was an open wound under there. Right?”

“The arm was in your body,” she agreed. “The cap will strap on, be perfectly fitted to line up with your nerves and speak to them but never be affixed to you. You will just be you.”

“If you want the arms affixed to their own caps, that’s easy,” said Tony. “Just makes for a slower change over if you want to go from making an omelet to fighting HYDRA, might be something we revisit once the organization is gone for good.”

“Let’s revisit it.” 

Tony smiled, and then Bruce leaned into him. Tony wrapped an arm around him, and Bruce sagged. “Tired?” asked Tony. His voice was hardly a whisper; it didn’t matter to the man, not with his hearing.

“I broke the buddy system.”

“Handsome,” Tony said, reprimand in his voice.

“BARF needed to be completed. I was three quarters done with the journal. I finished it by myself.”

“They’re too sad to read alone,” Tony said.

Bruce nodded, “But tweaking BARF for this man, anything to help this man… I broke the buddy system. DUM-E made me two smoothies, Butterfingers stroked my hair the whole time.”

“Win decided to sleep in his own bed so I will cuddle the shit out of you in a couple of hours and tomorrow we’ll start helping him with BARF. Are we totally done with reading?”

“No, JARVIS read the one in Romanian. He said we need to go over some stuff from the ‘80s. But we’re not going to get to the ‘80s tomorrow. This week is devoted to the code words then we’ll be able to get through probably two decades a week. We need more of his journals, but once he gets going with BARF he might remember where they are and be able to direct us.”

“Let’s just focus on getting him enough of a foundation that he feels safe,” said Tony.

Eavesdroppers rarely heard anything good. He heard two people express worry for his condition, and Bruce admit to harming himself to help him — an unknown person. Then Bruce said, “How the fuck is my spit still?... All I want to do is kiss you.”

“I will wait as long as it takes. I told Pepper to pick her outfit for our wedding the day I met you. I haven’t gotten laid in six years. Cuddling with you is the best part of my day. We’re gonna our mend our friend, we’re gonna take out HYDRA, this guy is gonna say, ‘Hey, I’m legally changing my name to Friend Dude and would like to convert my apartment into a floor,’ you and I get married, Hulk feels totally loved and secure and we all live happily ever after.”

“You’re already ninety-seven percent of the way there on Hulk.”

“Good, three percent to go and that’s one goal down.” 

“Brutal scarring here,” said Dr. Cho, pointing at his peck. 

He nodded, “I came out of it once, gained a little clarity. I tried to claw it off before I realized it was seared into my flesh.”

She nodded, “It adds a half an hour, want me to get rid of it?”

“It’s already going to be late,” he said.

“Not that late,” said Bruce. 

“You can hardly stand,” said the man. 

“This is not unusual for a lab night. Sometimes U props me up, do you want to get rid of it?” asked Bruce, smiling gently. The man nodded, “Okay, sounds good.” 

There was a clang, and he looked over: the arm was off. “Wow, that is amazing.”

“Want me to destroy it right now?” asked Tony. “Or you want to wait until you’re feeling up to it and smash it to pieces yourself?”

“I want a sledge hammer.”

“Cool,” agreed Tony.

“The cradle would be able to work faster if the arm weren’t on the table. Would it be okay if I moved it?” asked Dr. Cho. “It’s okay if the answer is no.”

“It’s a torture device, you guys keep acting like it has some sentimental value or I might be attached. Don’t destroy it, because I’d like to do that myself, but take it away, by all means.” 

She tried to lift it but said, “I can’t pick that up.”

“Yeah, it weighs one thirty and you can’t lift with your knees when it’s at waist level,” agreed Tony. He and Bruce moved in concert, both lifting together. 

“You poor bastard,” said Bruce. “I know you’re a super soldier but, Jesus Christ, carrying that twenty-four seven.”

“Every second I was awake it pulled on all my never endings, screaming. It’s finally off. I am going to sleep well tonight.”

“Just don’t try to sleep on your left side,” said Dr. Cho. “Your arm is numb now, and we will wrap it but the nerves will wake up throughout the night and be very sensitive. Don’t put pressure on them.”

“I haven’t slept on my left side since nineteen forty-five, Doc, we’re good,” he chuckled. DUM-E brought him a glass with green stuff. He had drunk the other smoothies. This one… “JARVIS, what is this?”

“Cucumber, apple, spinach, ginger, almond milk, dates and ice,” said JARVIS. “It’s Doc’s jam.” He spoke with a wry voice.

“It is, this is my favorite smoothie,” said Bruce. “It’s candy but it’s green. I would drink it all day. But I would get fat and the sheer number of dates would force me to live in the bathroom.” DUM-E brought him a cup, “Thanks, buddy.” To the man, he said, “Don’t drink anything you don’t want. I will happily drink yours if you don’t was a green thing.”

“I wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings,” he said.

Tony’s grin was giant and lit the room, “That is so damn nice of you. But my robots have been taught that everyone owns their own body and you don’t owe it to him to drink anything he makes you. Just because he made it doesn’t you owe it to him to drink it.” 

He started to lean to hand the drink to Bruce when the machine turned off. “Shit, sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” said Dr. Cho. “I actually was going to suggest you move.”

DUM-E brought a cup to Dr. Cho and then looked at the two cups Bruce was holding and then at the friend. “Sorry, DUM-E. I didn’t want it.” 

DUM-E nodded, took it away from Bruce and gave it to Tony. Tony laughed, “See? It works out: the blender wasn’t four drinks.” The robot started collecting cups from around the room. “Don’t do the dishes: you leave that to the dish washing robots. You are not waterproof; you are water resistant.”

“Why not make him waterproof?” asked their friend.

“He’d like doing dishes, wash things unnecessarily and flood the lab three times a week. I know my oldest child. There’s a reason nature didn’t give man wings, and there’s a reason DUM-E can’t be waterproof.” DUM-E was herding what the man assumed was a dishwashing robot to the sink. “DUM, I think we’re good on smoothies, sweetheart. I know you want to show off what you can do for our friend, but I think we’re good. We’ve had four rounds.”

DUM-E came, lowering his arm, so his camera was on eye level with his friend and studied him, “I’m fine, thank you, DUM-E. They were very nice, but I’m good.” Dr. Cho asked him to move and asked if it would be okay to do different restraints, telling him the new way to undo them. “This is less comfortable.”

“Take a break?”

He thought and then said, “Yeah, just to stand.” He undid the restraints and pushed himself to sit up. 

“You’ll be off balance,” said Tony. “You lost a buck thirty. Don’t fall and hit your brand new nerves.”

He pushed himself to stand. And it was like memories of being drunk or solid ground after five days at sea. And for the first time in as long as he could remember, it didn’t hurt. The weight wasn’t dragging him down, pulling him to his knees, forcing him to fight every second for the vertical. He breathed very slowly, trying to keep his breath even, trying to ignore the wetness on his face. He spread his legs to shoulder width — or what would have been shoulder width if he had had two shoulders — to keep his balance even and his footing reliable. He stretched and rolled his head on his neck.

“How does it feel?” asked Dr. Cho.

“I have these memories of my actions but of my body, things are vaguer… I can’t remember ever not being in pain. I know there were times I wasn’t in pain, I have memories of events that show I wasn’t in pain; but my body can only remember hurting. And suddenly, now, it doesn’t hurt. Standing doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt at all.”

“That’s great,” Bruce beamed at him, “Your spine might right itself as you have crazy healing skills. We’ll take it step by step-by-step. Right now, it doesn’t hurt.”

“It doesn’t hurt, not even a little,” said their friend. He took careful steps around the table. Butterfingers followed him. “Are you spotting me?”

“He is, and his name is a joke; he’s one of the most adroit robots in creation,” said Tony, “he’s got you.”

“Such a disconcerting feeling and so pleasant,” said the man. He made a full circuit and then sat back down, “Okay, rest of the neck, side and peck and then we can all go to bed. Sorry it’s so late.”

“For weeks on end, Bruce, JARVIS and I have been poring over your journals,” said Tony. “I’m sorry we’ve been so invasive while rebuilding BARF for you. But after hundreds and hundreds of hours of reading, knowing that you’re not in pain, the arm is off and you will soon have a fully healed clavicle and no scars on your peck is amazing. It’s great. We’re happy to sit here for as long as it takes, don’t worry.” 

“Thank you.” Butterfingers came over and put a very long bendy straw in his glass of water; it helped him drink in his new position. “Thank you,” he repeated. “That is a very useful straw.”

“I bought them in anticipation of Win breaking his arm falling off the monkey bars in his playroom — they’re sixteen feet up. He wears a spine protector and helmet, but those bars are not safe. Those bendy straws will be a godsend because he can still use both hands.”

“Why not put the monkey bars lower to the ground?” asked their friend. 

“He designed them,” answered Tony. “I never put monkey bars in. I didn’t want to argue with his design; he wears a spine protector. He can’t die. He’s the only son of Tony Stark: Iron Man. He will never be in public without some form of protective shadow. So he has a set of monkey bars I think are way too high, he’s allowed a life where he makes choices.”

“I did suggest having the monkey bars as part of a climbing frame he could design himself,” said JARVIS, “Master Win wanted the height. He designed and installed them himself.” 

Tony laughed and said, “Anyway, that’s why we have absurd bendy straws. In preparation for the day he inevitably breaks his arm.”

“You’re okay with that?” asked the man, shocked at the casual way Tony talked about his child’s possible injury. 

Tony shrugged, “A childhood confined by bubble wrap isn’t much of a childhood. He loves his monkey bars. His quality of life goes down without monkey bars. And, if he breaks a limb, he gets a cast that everyone can sign. That’s cool. A kid in daycare had a cast. He was so jealous. Everyone signed and drew on it.” Their friend chuckled, “I don’t know what we should talk about. We covered BARF. You have your house key. I suggest you stay inside this week, just until we get the words gone. We’ve got a good gym. You can explore everyone’s floors. You can find wherever you feel the best about doing BARF. No one would mind if you liked their floor. I cook every night. Most people turn up, you aren’t honor bound if you feel that’s overwhelming or just not your thing. Nothing is compulsory. JARVIS can order you anything you want: groceries or delivery. And if you’re into what I’m cooking for dinner but don’t like the sound of dinner with more than a dozen people, I will happily send a robot with dinner down to you. Sorry you’re so far below us. All of our main floors have people. But, if you like it here, you do get a little more privacy of your floor, which is nice. And you’ll have the same access as family and team, so you’ll just be on a different floor, not a huge deal, just an extra forty-five seconds in the elevator.”

“Let’s focus on the words, the memories and HYDRA before we worry about where I live after,” suggested their friend. 

Bruce chuckled, “That’s a plan. I know you’re in a worse position but can we get you anything?” 

Having heard their whispered conversation, it was stupid to feel anxious. But the position he was lying in was uncomfortable. It would take a moment to get upright if he needed to. He was down an arm. It was all making him off balance, figuratively and literally. So he made an absurd request. How someone reacted to a stupid request told you a lot. 

“Do we have any cookies?” he asked. He knew Tony hadn’t brought any. There had been some in his apartment. It had gone two-thirty in the morning. 

“Not here, but in the building absolutely,” said Bruce. “J, inventory it, please.”

“Fast food cookies: Oreos, Grandma’s Cookies and Nutter Butters in various vending machines. Freshly baked cookies are in the cafeteria waiting for the morning: chocolate chip, sugar cookie, snickerdoodles, peanut butter, oatmeal raisin, lemon and coconut macaroons. Agent Barton has Mallomars, Thor has Pop Tarts, Captain Rogers has Fig Newtons. You have The Cookie Kahuna cookies in your apartment, friend. I wouldn’t suggest sharing them. As far as I can tell, without having a mouth, they’re delicious and best eaten alone in pajamas.”

“As someone with a mouth, I can confirm that,” said Tony. “So, whose kitchen are we sending Bruce to or is he hitting the cafeteria?”

Their friend laughed, “I wouldn’t want to make Bruce travel.”

“I could use a lap around the building,” said Bruce, leaning down to make perfect eye contact. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say no to a macaroon.”

Bruce smiled, “You got it.”

U zipped by the cradle holding out a ball and brought it to Tony. “No,” said the man. “I love you. You are a klutz who will crash into the table and hurt our friend. We cannot play catch or fetch right now because it will get out of hand and there will be tears, probably mine: our friend is stoic. I promised our friend this would be painless, don’t make Daddy a liar.” 

The man couldn’t see what was happening from his position, but the robot must have been insistent because Tony said, “No, I said no and I meant it. Go tidy up the lab glass please: it’s a shit show because Bruce keeps borrowing it and then bringing it back. I don’t know where it went to begin with because I haven’t used it since I moved into this lab. I don’t even know why Peter ordered me lab glass. I am Iron Man. Iron Man needs metal not glass. Figure out where the glass is supposed to live because I don’t know.” The robot made a weird squeaking beeping noise. Tony gave it a loud, smacking kiss. “Go, do a job.” 

It zipped off, past the cradle. “They didn’t know about kisses until Win happened,” said Tony, moving so he could look the man in the cradle in the eye. “Like I said — learning bots. Once they found out about parental kisses they were like, ‘Oh, I gotta get in on that.’” He was looking at the machine and said, “The cradle is doing a beautiful job. Dr. Cho is a genius and you’re doing marvelously.”

“I’m staying still.”

“In a machine, in a lab,” Tony nodded, “you’re doing a fucking great job. Don’t wake up early tomorrow. You’ll do better at BARF if you’ve actually slept. Your kitchen has a shit ton of one handed tools. JARVIS can walk you through them we also made you some curated YouTube playlists too. JARVIS can walk you through those. I don’t know how you feel about tech. I know that Bucky loved Howard’s lab but,” he shrugged. “Your kitchen island is a touchscreen computer if you hit the switch under the lip of the counter. You also have stuff like loafers, flip-flops, tank tops and sweats: stuff that you don’t need two hands to dress yourself.”

“Thank you. Sometimes the arm died and then I would use it as a way to hold stuff still. So, I have a little practice.” 

Tony nodded, “A lot of tools for amputees assume you have a stump to hold stuff still, so we adapted a shit ton of them to hold stuff without a stump. We can show you, or JARVIS can how to work them. And we can make new shit if this shit does not work. But you’ve got stuff like a cutting board with a suction cup on the bottom to hold it still and three long spikes on top to hold an orange still so you and cut it up and enjoy it. All sorts of little things like that designed to make things a little simpler while your nerves calm down.”

The man swallowed, “I thought friendship was guns and info.”

“That wasn’t what we meant,” Tony smiled. “If you had said that’s what you wanted, we would have respected it, but this is what we meant. Your guest room is largely empty other than a bed and some other furniture, that’s just for if you make a friend. Like, maybe you want ‘Tasha nearby or something. Anyone would be more than happy to be nearby if you want a friend to talk to at three in the morning. Everyone is on your side. We have all needed someone at three in the morning.”

“Good to know.”

“Your fridge has a list of the employee cafeteria specials. Everything in the cafeteria is excellent. JARVIS can give you a full menu, a robot can grab you whatever you want. I get lunch from there a lot. Win and I have eaten dinner down there a couple of times when I’ve been sick and other people haven’t been able to pick up the slack and feed us. It’s delicious food. If you don’t want to cook, can’t face the penthouse and are too hungry to wait for delivery, use the cafeteria: it’s not a regular cafeteria. The fridge also has an evac plan — if the building is on fire we are too high up to jump out a window — an unmanned Iron Man suit will come and get you out. That’s written out on a magnet on your fridge; please read it.” 

The man nodded. Tony studied him. “When I started therapy, I had a really hard time talking about it with people. I talked to JARVIS. People… he didn’t have a face to look back at me. Sometimes it’s hard to deal with people. There’s some stuff we couldn’t figure out. You have cleaning bots in your apartment, in a door off your kitchen, they clean up after you. Everyone has them. We can’t figure out how you wrap that arm by yourself. The bots could help you, if JARVIS overrides them and controls them and uses them as his hands. Or we can help you. However you feel comfortable. You don’t have to decide right now. People have touched you for decades without your permission. Think it over.”

“Thank you,” said the man. 

“Okay, I am back,” said Bruce, coming back. “I spooked the late night guys who were also getting cookies in the kitchen. They assumed I was post Hulk out and tried to hand me a whole tray. I had to explain that I didn’t need cookies in bulk.” He saw Bruce handing off cookies, and then Bruce studied his position. “I’m trying to figure out how you can eat this in your position. I could hand feed you this.” There was beeping, and Bruce looked past him, “U, put the extender fork back. You will take out our friend’s eye.”

“I’ll wait and celebrate this being done with a macaroon,” said the man, feeling more relaxed now that they were approaching the finish line.

Bruce smiled, “It’s looking really good.”

Dr. Cho came around, tilting her head to make eye contact, “The cradle is rebuilding your hair follicles. Your skin is going to feel a little bare for a week or two as your body hair grows in. but we’ve got just ten minutes to go.”

“J, where are we on our next HYDRA base?” asked Tony.

“Still looking at power draws and the shipping manifests, Sir. I think I’ll have a location in two days. If it’s that soon, you’re going to have to have to put someone in charge.”

“I need to think. It’s HYDRA so it’s Steve. But it’s SHIELD so it’s Sharon but it’s the Avengers which, for my money, makes it ‘Tasha. I know it should be Steve but, for me, the Avengers means ‘Tasha: she’s where it started. So… at this point, tell me what country they are heading to and I will decide who is in charge. And, if it takes more than two days it might be that our friend will be in full swing with BARF, you’ll say it’s in Oregon and I’ll lead it myself.”

“It looks like Asia,” said JARVIS.

“That makes me lean toward Sharon with Clint as second. She’s spent two year in various parts of the continent.”

There was a silence, and the man in the cradle said, “So you’re the leader of the Avengers?”

Tony gave a tired laugh, “Hell no. I’m not an Avenger. Don’t let Win hear you say it. I’m a consultant. This whole HYDRA thing is the SHIELD implosion. This is an op reporting directly to the President. It’s not an Avengers gig. Steve, Captain America, leads the Avengers. All shiny superheroes fighting supervillains. This is Operation FML led by Iron Man with science by Bruce, info by JARVIS, muscle by the Avengers and kill orders cleared by the President. This is not shiny. They used to call me the merchant of death back when I was a military contactor because my weapons were beautiful and horrific. If we’re fighting tech-ed up assholes that’s my domain. Supervillians I leave to the Avengers.”

“Operation Fuck My Life?”

“My father accidentally bankrolled secret Nazis who murdered my mother and then I was gonna have to find and probably kill Steve’s best friend who had been zombified and murdered my mom. Yeah, man, Operation FML — that’s its official name. And then we learned more about you and it became a collective name. Because what the fuck? Nazis are just running around killing moms, destroying life’s works, brutally torturing people for seventy years. The name became collective, it’s much more about your life now than mine. But it’s still led by me, and okayed by the President.”

“What about me?”

“You’re okayed by the President too. Cleared by him and the UN. It was handled, it was cleared. Backroom shit. It will have to be announced but there were hushed committees. We’re clear. You’ll get your army pension. You’ll get your overdue owed money for Man with a Plan Comics. You’ve got the right to vote. You haven’t met Phil Coulson yet but he’s great, loves paperwork, he’ll get you your driver’s license and a real passport and shit. You are a-okay. We’ve got you. This is what friends are for. Your life got fucked but you have friends.”

“You got me a pension?”

“No, that was Phil. Like I said, loves paperwork. We just said you needed your right to vote. He came back and told us about the pension and comic book money,” Tony smiled. “You have friends in this building you haven’t even met yet.”

“I can vote?”

“Midterm election isn’t for a year and a half but when it comes, yes you can,” Bruce smiled. “You vote as James Buchanan Barnes unless you legally change it.”

“I didn’t think I would ever get away from HYDRA and I really never thought I would vote again.”

“You have a Congressional Medal of Honor,” said Bruce. “You damn well get to vote.”

“Thank you,” said their friend. “You got me a whole life.”

The machine clicked off, and Dr. Cho said, “Okay, friend, you’re done with the cradle.” 

He sat up and examined his shoulder. It was smooth skin. The bone looked a little odd — his clavicle jutted out — but compared to what he had had, it was truly, mind-blowingly amazing. “Look at that.” DUM-E rolled over, holding a mirror that looked like it usually held a scientific purpose. “Thank you, DUM-E.” He accepted it and looked. He stared at it. “Wow, thank you. It’s… I’m just me now. There’s no mechanics. I’m just flesh. No arm, no scars from the arm. Thank you. Thank you all so much. It doesn’t hurt and it’s just me.” He put the mirror down and very, very carefully stroked his hand over his new flesh. “It feels like me.”

“It is you,” said Dr. Cho. “Your DNA, your tissue. The cradle just facilitated healing.”

“Thank you,” he said. 

“It’s my pleasure,” she assured him. “Do not put pressure on your newly healed body for a while. Do BARF now, we’ll get to your prosthetic next.” 

“It’s so beautiful. I need the arm to get back to work but — fuck — I love looking at it. It’s beautiful.”

She grinned, “Good, good. I’m staying on your floor. Tony did not personalize my suite. But if you need medical assistance, just tell JARVIS and I will come running.”

“You’re staying in a luxury exec suite that is twice the size of our friend’s,” said Tony. “Also, our friend may be living here permanently. He needed a space that was as close to his taste as we could guess.”

“My apartment is amazing, really, amazing. But, JARVIS, I am sorry. I just…”

“Why don’t I wait in the hall? We’ll treat it as though I were anyone else. If you want to invite me in, you ask. I can help you with any questions about where things are in your apartment, or tips on life after amputation or a chat. No one has any interest in spying on you. The only question would be what to do when someone is messaging you… what about a Stark phone? If someone wants you I’ll call the phone?”

“You’re a real standup guy, JARVIS,” he replied. 

“I like you too. A bot will be waiting for you at apartment. We don’t have a key to your rooms anymore. It’s a fully functional phone so you’ll be able to talk to people more interesting but nowhere near as smart as me… no one is as smart as me. The phone will ask you for a password, set it up once you’re inside your apartment. I won’t have my cameras active in there so you will have privacy.”

The man laughed, “I’m not secretive. It’s just... After the last seventy years.”

“I wasn’t suggesting you were secretive,” JARVIS replied, “I was saying you have a right to your secrets. You’ll need help with BARF. Sir, Doc and I had to read your journals. Set your phone code once you’re in your apartment. I shouldn’t know it.”

“Thank you.” It was the first time the people around him invited him to have secrets in over seventy years. Even though it was just a cell phone password, even though his brain was so fried he would probably make it 1234, it felt amazing to have the choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it!
> 
> I really liked ending it where I did, on this quiet, hopeful moment. Obviously, the saga isn't done. And I'm only 18,000 words into the next story. I am working as fast as possible so subscribe and I will do my best! It won't be as long a break but it won't be as quickly as the ones beforehand because the huge break threw off my rhythm. 
> 
> I really do hope you're enjoying this! I would love to hear what you thought! I always appreciate your comments!


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